


In Over My Head

by vintagenoise



Series: Young Volcanoes [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Artist!Dean, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Cas, Childhood Friends, Classism, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Concerts, Crushes, Dancing, Dream Sex, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Heteronormativity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealous!Cas, Kissing Games, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Multi, Nostalgia, Oblivious!Dean, Oral Sex, POV Third Person Limited, Rich!Castiel, Sexual Confusion, Slow Burn, Small Towns, Sneaking Out, Summer, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Masturbation, Unreliable Narrator, Wet Dream, Work In Progress, in a dream:, jealous!Dean, nerd!dean, underage sex (sixteen year olds), very slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 62,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagenoise/pseuds/vintagenoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other.</p>
<p>Summer 2006: Dean Winchester has all but given up. Yes, he's finally dating the girl of his dreams, but nothing else seems to go right. His grades are slipping, his job keeps him away from his friends, and the deal he's got going with Alastair is only getting harder to fulfill. At least Dean's best friend from last summer, Castiel Milton, is back in town... but so are all the confusing feelings that come with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> once again, so much love and gratitude to [castielflowercrowns](http://castielflowercrowns.tumblr.com), [allthebees](http://allthebees.tumblr.com), and [alaskasmonsters](http://alaskasmonsters.tumblr.com) for their support! and thank you to everyone who read part 1 and decided to stick around :) you're the reason i do this!
> 
> since i'm such a slow writer and this is such a long story, i've opted to start posting in installments as i reach a good stopping point. this means updates will come a little faster, but the parts won't come as a whole piece anymore. as before, the character death will only be referred to in the prologue (though, of course, it is a little more intense this time around, since we're in dean's POV). 
> 
> and, if this is your first time reading this series, i recommend reading [part one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1448572/chapters/3049261) first! 
> 
> a playlist of important or setting-appropriate music can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLLltJCC6_KG5pTF8vo95WYwHgPm9tOWK-) :)

_Please don’t give up, dear you_  
 _I’m but the sliver moon sliding through_  
 _When you belong to a song_  
 _Salty eyes_  
 _You belong_  
 **\- Salty Eyes** , The Matches

 

**January 19th, 2010**

Dean tosses his cell phone onto the counter, then puts his face in his hands, taking a slow, deep breath. Something to center him, draw his emotions back from the forefront, so he can focus on everything that’s more important than his tears. He still has so much to do before the funeral, before people start arriving - there’s no time to waste on grief.

He lifts his head again when he feels more in control, and reaches for the checklist Bobby gave him last night. Since Dean had insisted on doing as much as he possibly could by himself, Bobby had opted to just help him set up a to-do list. He still needs to call the bank and the post office. Actually make the time to look at the envelope where Mary left her last wishes, so he can then call the funeral director. He needs to work up the courage to go through her closet and find an outfit for the wake. Send the rest of her clothes to Goodwill.

Dean leans over and takes another deep breath. He’s days away from turning twenty, and he’s planning his mother’s funeral. A part of him knows that, if he asked for help, he’d get plenty of it. But then he’d have too much time on his hands, and frankly, he’d rather keep himself occupied than have to face reality.  
God knows what he’s going to do once everything is taken care of.

When he’s able to lift his head again, he catches a glimpse of movement by the kitchen door. Sam is standing there, watching him with mournful eyes, but Dean quickly straightens up and clears his throat. Sam shouldn’t be worrying about him. Sam shouldn’t be worrying about anything - he’s got a few days off from school, Sarah, Andy, and Jess are coming over later, and all Sam needs to do is sit there and grieve and let his friends (and Dean) support him. Dean’s the adult. He’ll do the rest.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean asks, busying himself by digging in the drawers, pretending he’s getting ready to make dinner.

Sam watches him closely. “Are you really going to cook?”

“Yeah.” Dean frowns. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because Ellen said she’d cook for us for a while. She should be here in a half hour.”

“I like cooking.” Dean turns away from Sam and takes a few quick breaths through his nose. “Did the landline ring while I was on the phone with Cas?”

“Yeah.” And Dean has to look at his brother, because with just that one syllable, Sam’s given away the game. “What?”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Who was it, Sam?”

“Cas is going to be here for the funeral?” Sam tries to change the subject, sounding a little too perky, and now Dean’s convinced something’s up.

“Was it Dad?”

Sam rolls his eyes. They called their father before they called anyone else, and he’d sworn he’d come to Sileas for the funeral, or as soon as he could get there. Both boys still have trouble trusting their father’s promises, even though he’s been clean and settled down for years now. Old habits die hard. “No,” Sam answers. “It was Lisa.”

Dean’s heart stops. He jumps between anger and guilt and confusion, before clearing his throat and settling on a casual tone. “Lisa Braeden? I haven’t talked to her in years.”

Sam bites his lower lip and takes a few more steps into the kitchen. He’s not even sixteen yet, but he’s stretched out like saltwater taffy, only an inch or two smaller than Dean. His knees and elbows get everywhere, accidentally digging into Dean’s ribs as he fills up the space next to him. “She saw the article in the paper, and hunted around to get our number to see if it was okay for her to come to the funeral.”

Dean pauses, his fingers wrapped around a cabinet’s brass handle. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her she could.”

Dean tightens his grip. Sam sighs.

“Seriously, Dean, it’s been years. You’re with Cas now, anyway, so what does it matter?”

“I’m not mad,” Dean says slowly, his voice gruff. “She knew Mom too. If she wants to come, she can come.”

Sam watches Dean closely, but Dean refuses to meet his gaze, and refuses to satisfy his curiosity. What happened with Lisa was a mess. A mess that’s entirely Dean’s fault, to the point that he’s not even sure if Cas has completely forgiven him for it. Considering Dean only spoke to Lisa once after it all went to hell, he’s surprised she wants to come to the funeral at all. Mom must have made a bigger impression on her than he thought.

“It’s fine,” Dean says again, pushing away from the cabinet, keeping his face down. “I have shit to take care of.”

“Okay,” Sam mumbles. Dean hears Sam’s pain rather than sees it, and all he can do is pick up the pace, try to escape to his room, back to the bustle of preparation. Back to being so busy he can’t feel. “I’ll just… clean up in here.”

Dean only just stops himself from slamming his bedroom door, and he has to stop and take a moment to breathe before he makes his way down the stairs. The yellow envelope with Mary’s last wishes in it is sitting on Dean’s desk. Just thinking of touching it makes him ache all over, but he has to. Someone has to.

He wants to call Cas. Tell him about how much pain he’s in, how much is weighing on his shoulders, how this is so much more difficult than he ever could have imagined, and not just in the sense that he desperately misses his mother, but that he has to know things he never wanted to know. Not until he was well into his fifties, at least.

Dean takes a seat on his bed and covers his face with his hands, taking deep, shuddering breaths. It takes several moments for him to finally calm down, and several more before he works up the courage to open the envelope.

Mary wants to be cremated.

Dean breaks.

 

\-----

 

A few hours later, Dean emerges from his room. He avoids Sam’s gaze, well-aware that he looks like hell and unwilling to talk about why.

“Ellen brought baked macaroni and cheese,” Sam says quietly. “She told me to tie you down and funnel it into your mouth if I had to.”

Dean huffs. It’s as close as he can get to a laugh right now. “All right, all right.” He shuffles into the kitchen, where the pan still sits on the island; Sam never did know how to put away leftovers. Dean shakes his head and cuts himself a piece, putting it into the microwave for a quick jolt. He taps his fingers against the microwave door, then turns back to Sam.

“Did you get Lisa’s number?”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Why?”

Dean shrugs. “I want to call her.” It’s easier to focus on his past sins, to want to make amends, then to have to face anything else to do with Mary’s death. He’s had enough of that for one evening.

Sam hesitates. “It should still be in the caller ID,” he says slowly. “So. Yeah. Whenever you want.”

“Okay.” The microwave beeps. Dean turns to retrieve his food and a fork, and drops it off in the dining room before getting the house phone. And yes, _Braeden, Lisa_ is among the recent calls.

Dean sits down and takes a bite of food before hitting the talk button and putting the phone against his ear as it rings. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t eaten anything since dinner last night, but he doubts he could stomach more than a few bites now. Ellen’s threats are the only thing that keep him bringing the food to his mouth, chewing, and swallowing.

The ringing stops abruptly, and a familiar voice says, “Hello?” Dean can see her, bright-eyed and smiling as she sits shotgun in the old pick-up truck Bobby gave him for his sixteenth birthday. The wind rolling through her dark hair as she laughs at whatever stupid joke he’d just made. Nostalgia almost makes him smile. He had cared for her. Whatever happened that summer, and whatever feelings he has for Cas, that doesn’t change the fact that he saw a future with her. It wasn’t as brightly colored as the future he now sees with Cas, but he could have made it work.

“Hello?” she says again, dragging Dean out of his reverie.

“Hi, Lisa,” he responds. She doesn’t speak for a moment, but he hears rustling on the other end, and the gentle click of a door closing.

“Dean?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Lisa, I’m sorry.”

“No, Dean, don’t, you don’t have to do this now-”

“Please.” Dean closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face. The smell of the food on his plate makes his stomach roll, so he pushes it away, figuring he’ll deal with Ellen’s wrath later. “I just want to apologize. Really apologize. So please listen.”

She goes quiet again. Someone laughs in the background, maybe the TV, and Lisa sighs. “Okay,” she says softly. “Go ahead.”

Dean leans over the table. Takes a deep breath. And tries to figure out where to begin.


	2. Love and Memories

_I wanna go back to when_  
I was the winner  
Way before the rain came and washed away the sinners  
Everyone was someone  
And I could never do any wrong  
 **“Summer of ‘89,”** Butch Walker

 

**May 27th, 2006**

If Dean were a more poetic person, he probably would have wooed a classy girl like Lisa Braeden a long time ago. Because he knows she’s beautiful, he finds new ways to appreciate it every day, but he’s never really been able to tell her how beautiful he thinks she is. Jo and Charlie had insisted on a Disney movie marathon after finals, and when Aladdin struggled to describe Jasmine’s beauty to the Genie, Dean had really felt for the guy. It’s tough, trying to explain how beautiful someone is when you’re struck dumb just thinking about them.

They’re out in the clearing on top of the hill that overlooks Sileas, in Dean’s old pick-up truck. It’s basically Lover’s Lane, but Lisa is genuinely entranced by the little blinking lights of the houses below, and the gentle movement of the ocean beyond that. And when she smiles that way, like a spotlight, Dean is just happy to be in her presence.

It’s okay that he thinks that way, as long as he never says it aloud.

“Stop staring,” Lisa says, jerking Dean out of his thoughts. It’s dark, with the new moon, but Dean can still make out her smile, so he smiles back.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” She reaches over to turn the radio on, then switches to an oldies station. Normally, Dean doesn’t like anyone changing the music in his vehicle, but y’know, oldies aren’t so bad. Better than that emo shit Jo and Sam are so obsessed with. The Drifters are singing about romance by the sea, and Dean gently grips Lisa’s hand before she can pull back, and brings her knuckles to his lips. When he glances at her from under his lashes, she’s smiling widely, and leaning over to close the distance between them.

They’ve been dating for a few months now, so kissing is familiar. Lisa is pliant and warm beneath Dean’s hands, and when she cups his jaw, deepens the kiss, Dean’s stomach drops out and his dick twitches in his jeans. They haven’t done anything like that yet - they’re both virgins, and Lisa admitted early on that she was afraid of being taken advantage of. Dean admired her from afar for over a year, is ecstatic that she even looked at him when he finally worked up the courage to talk to her, let alone accepted his invitation to the movies on a Saturday night. But he gets it. There are creeps out there, guys who want to seduce a girl, then sully her name while never talking to her again. Dean’s not like that, but he understands that he’ll have to prove that to Lisa first.

Dean presses back against her as much as he can, sliding his hand down to her thigh. Lisa hesitates, taking a breath, before claiming Dean’s lips again, a little rougher than before. Surprised, Dean slides his other hand up her back, trying to placate her. She’s radiating heat, and hotter as his fingers carefully climb up her thigh. She makes a soft noise into his mouth, and Dean’s brain short-circuits. He’s going to touch her and she’s going to let him. She trusts him enough to let him. This is it. The big moment.

And it’s ruined when his phone goes off.

Lisa pulls back, laughing softly. Dean can’t believe how good she looks like this, her lips red and shiny, and he yelps when she reaches behind him and slips his phone out of his back pocket.

“I think it’s for you,” she teases. Dean frowns and takes his phone back. The tiny screen is lit up with Charlie’s name, and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s just Charlie,” he says, flipping his phone open and pressing the end call button. “She can wait.” He leans in, pressing featherlight kisses to Lisa’s jaw, only for Lisa to giggle and shake him off when his phone starts vibrating in his hand.

“Seems important,” Lisa says with a grin, firmly pushing Dean away. “You better answer it.”

Dean’s going to kill Charlie. He gives Lisa one more longing look, then flips his phone open and brings it to his ear. “This better be good, Bones.”

“Wow, way to be rude, Kirk.” There’s a commotion in the background, loud conversation and glasses clinking. “I only had amazing news for you, but maybe I won’t share it anymore.”

“Dammit, Charlie, you knew I was going out with Lisa tonight.” Dean glances at Lisa, who’s smiling knowingly at him. He’ll forever be impressed by how good she’s been about his friends. She doesn’t quite fit in with the other Goonies yet, but Dean’s convinced she’s his Andy, and all it’ll take is one good adventure to bring her into the fold. “What the hell is so important?”

“Spock’s back on the Enterprise, Captain.”

Dean frowns. “What?”

Charlie sighs in exasperation; he can almost feel her eyeroll. “ _Cas_ is back in town.”

Dean’s heart stops. Next to him, Lisa shifts, her smile fading into concern. “Dean?” she whispers, and he takes a breath, grinning at her.

“Cas is back?” he repeats. Lisa blinks, her eyes going wide. Charlie giggles in his ear. “Where are you guys? Does he have a free pass tonight?”

Something shifts in Lisa’s expression, but it’s brief, quickly replaced by a smile. Dean shrugs it off when Charlie responds, “He says his brother’s staying in Portland tonight, so he’s got all night if he wants. You wanna close down the Roadhouse?”

Dean laughs brightly. “Is Ellen okay with that?”

“She fully supports our celebration, yes, as long as we stay away from the bar.”

“Fair enough. Put Cas on ice, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” It’s only after Dean’s hung up the phone and started the truck that he remembers he’s on a date. He glances guiltily at Lisa, cringing slightly. Dean had started working at Bobby’s shop immediately after his sixteenth birthday, so even though he and Lisa have been going steady for a while, it’s only since school ended (and Mary threatened to get Dean fired if he didn’t cut back on his hours and have some fun) that they’ve actually been able to spend a lot of time together, just the two of them. “Sorry,” Dean mumbles, not looking at her directly. “It’s just he’s-”

“Your best friend?” When Dean looks up, Lisa has a small smile on her face, and he feels a rush of affection for her. “The one you haven’t seen in months? Who you never shut up about?” Dean feels heat rising up from his throat, and he turns away as she laughs. “I’m not heartless, Dean. It’s fine. Go see him. We’ll hang out some other time.”

Dean clears his throat as he puts the truck in reverse and starts to back out. “You could come too. No one would mind.”

“Nah, I’d just be a huge third wheel.” She’s not wrong, which just makes Dean feel worse. As he pulls out onto the main road, Lisa gently places her hand over his. “I’m happy to meet him some other time. Tonight should be about you guys catching up. Besides…” She draws her hand back and leans into her seat, smiling slightly. “He’s only here for a few months. I get to have you all year long.”

Dean blushes again, which makes her laugh outright, but he feels better, and adores his lovely girlfriend all the more for her understanding.

Dean drops Lisa off at home, where she gives him a quick kiss good-bye, and warns him not to have too much fun. He promises to call her tomorrow, and as he pulls back onto the street, he hopes he can introduce her to Cas tomorrow too. It’ll all depend on how much freedom Cas has this year. A part of him knows it’s a long shot, but he can’t help hoping that Cas’s family learned something last year, and opted to give him a longer leash.

Dean’s missed Cas more than he wants to admit to, even to Jo or Charlie, and especially to Lisa. Something about that wiry kid and his ridiculous blue eyes wormed its way into Dean’s heart and made itself at home. They had exchanged MySpace messages and texts and occasional e-mails all during the school year, but a lot of the time, Dean would catch himself drifting off in class, thinking about wrestling with Cas on the beach, pinning him down as the waves crash over their legs...

(This happened about as often as his daydreams about getting Lisa in the bed of his truck and finally finding out if she wears lacey or flowered bras, but Dean isn’t concerned about it.)

Dean parks on the gravel lot across the street from the Roadhouse, and as he’s walking towards the door, his phone goes off again. He doesn’t even look at the caller ID before answering: “I’m literally five feet from the door.”

“That Godzilla of a vehicle is yours?”

Dean stops. He feels a smile slowly spread over his face as he searches the golden windows for a familiar face. “If you watched _Godzilla_ without me, Cas, it better have been the good one.”

Cas chuckles in his ear, and Dean looks up at the second floor to see a shadowed figure waving down at him. He waves back as Cas says, “I watched a lot of movies in the past year, Dean. I don’t expect you to approve of all my choices.”

“No, but if you watched _Godzilla_ with Matthew Broderick, I basically owe you a slap in the face. Because that’s what that movie was.” He pushes past the crowd at the door, waving to Ellen behind the bar, and heads up the spiral staircase.

“I was hoping for a less violent reunion,” Cas continues. “But I guess I’ll take what I can get with you.”

Dean approaches the table just in time to see Charlie pull the phone away from Cas’s ear and say, “Quit flirting!” as Cas laughs. Dean takes a deep breath, taking it all in: the warm lighting casting a glow on Cas’s skin, his delicate hands as he tickles Charlie breathless in an attempt to get his phone back. Cas has filled out a little, mostly in his shoulders, but his jawline is still soft, and it’s a strange juxtaposition of boy and man, but Dean supposes they’ll all go through that in the next year or so.

“You’re back one day and already causing trouble?” Dean finally says, grabbing a chair from an unoccupied table and dragging it over to the booth his friends have claimed. Cas is up in an instant, his smile huge and brilliant as he wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders. Dean returns the hug, squeezing hard around Cas’s ribs and slapping him on the back as they pull apart. Cas is taller than Dean now, though only by an inch, and Dean’s pretty sure he felt a light scrape of stubble on his cheek when they embraced.

“It’s good to see you, Cas,” Dean says, surprised by the quiet honesty of his tone.

Cas’s smile has to hurt by now, and Dean remembers just how lonely his friend had been before they met last year, how happy he must be to be back around the people who helped him move past that. “You too, Dean.”

“Hey!” Jo yells, startling both boys. “Save the mushy stuff for later. Did you bring Lisa?”

Cas draws back from Dean and reclaims his seat as Dean shrugs. “She said tonight should be about us.” He gestures around the table, Cas and Charlie on one side, and Jo, Pam, and Ash squeezed in on the other. “It’s not like she’ll never have another chance to meet him, right?” He glances at Cas, an eyebrow raised. “You are gonna be able to hang out more this summer, aren’t you?”

Cas makes a face and tilts his hand back and forth over the table. “Kind of? Michael’s graduated now so he’s shadowing Mother full time. Gabriel’s supposed to be watching Anna and me now, but Michael will still be around at least once a week.”

“So more sneaking around town with your poor friends. Got it.” Dean grins when Castiel rolls his eyes. The others laugh uncomfortably, and Dean is reminded of just how much happened without them last summer. Pam was never sneered at by Michael. Jo was never called out for the holes in her jeans by Naomi. Dean’s not even sure if Naomi and Michael know anyone’s name but his.

Jo gets up suddenly, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m going downstairs to get more drinks, anybody want anything?”

Dean asks for an IPA, but changes it to a Dr. Pepper float when Jo flips him off. Everyone else just wants refills, and Charlie volunteers to accompany Jo and help her carry everything. Dean takes the now empty space next to Cas and grins at him, gently elbowing him in the side. “Are you gonna be able to escape tomorrow?”

Cas blinks at him. “Maybe. Why?”

“‘Cause I might try to get Lisa to come out with me, and I want you to meet her.”

Cas smiles slowly. “I’d love to meet her. She sounds…” He pauses, biting his lower lip as he thinks. “Well. She sounds great. Is she?”

“Of course she’s-” But Dean’s cut off when Cas slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling his words. His fingers are strong, and they smell like sea salt, and Dean blushes when Cas smirks at him.

“Of course you think she’s great. What do you guys think?” He turns to Ash and Pam, who seem surprised to be included in the conversation.

“I like her,” Pam offers. “She’s really sweet, very patient, which is good for a Winchester.” Dean growls at her from behind Cas’s hand, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“She’s all right.” Ash shrugs, picking at his fingernails. “Better taste in music than some people we know.”

Cas raises an eyebrow and turns back to Dean. “Well. I guess I have to meet her, after those rave reviews.”

Dean wonders when he started hanging around people that hated him. He licks Cas’s palm, but all he gets is a wrinkled nose in return, and Pam sighs, “This is nice. Dean’s so pretty, but that rude-ass mouth ruins the whole effect.”

Cas laughs then, his eyes crinkled in the corners, and Dean figures the abuse may be worth it.

 

\-----

 

They sit upstairs on their own for a few hours, laughing and chatting. Cas fits in like a missing puzzle piece, and Dean feels oddly at peace to be sitting next to him again, as if there had been something restless and jittery in his blood the whole year, but now that Cas is nearby again, it can settle and relax.

Ellen kicks them out around one in the morning. Mary is wiping down tables by the window, but she stops and goes to hug Cas as soon as she sees him, cooing about his height and how badly he needs a haircut. Charlie, Jo, and Pam all snigger amongst themselves until Dean takes Cas’s wrist and drags him away, telling his mom that Cas’ll be around all summer for her to fawn over, which makes Mary blush and smack his shoulder.

Everyone goes their separate ways once outside, though Jo steals a quick hug from Cas before taking off after Pam and Ash, who live on the same street she does. Cas lingers, following Dean to his truck and inspecting it with a look of disgust.

“Please tell me you don’t drive this anywhere but around Sileas,” Cas comments, his eyes glittering. Dean bites his lower lip and shrugs; he actually takes it out to Astoria and Seaside pretty regularly, but Cas doesn’t need to know that, or the reasons why. Not yet.

“It does the job. And it’s only until I turn eighteen anyway.” Dean kicks one of the tires, then leans against the bed of the truck. “Then I’ll get my dad’s car. And she’s a beauty.”

The shine falls out of Cas’s eyes, but he manages a smile anyway. “That’s a good year and a half away. This thing looks like it’ll fall apart tomorrow.”

Dean shoves him playfully. “Stop talking shit about my truck. Tell me about school. What did you do all year besides run around a track and win medals and ace all your classes?”

Cas blushes slightly, but he looks pleased that Dean remembered that much. “I roomed with some of my teammates, so they kept me pretty entertained. They loved your drawings, by the way.”

Dean blinks, then meets Cas’s gaze, something in his chest slowing his breath and making him dizzy. “You actually posted those up?”

“Every one of them.” Cas grins, his teeth glowing in the light of the Roadhouse behind them. “Even the Ewok you sent me for Christmas. Uriel especially liked that one.”

On the one hand, Dean is still getting used to people seeing his artwork. After Cas had seemed so impressed, Dean had finally started letting Sam watch over his shoulder as he sketched. Then he would show his mom some of the pieces he put a little more effort in to. And during school, he’d show Charlie and Jo his fanart, blushing bright red when they inevitably screamed in delight over hobbits and slayers and angels.

On the other hand, it’s an entirely different thing to find out complete strangers have seen his work. It’s hard enough showing the people he’s close to. Dean realizes that he’d told Cas to go ahead and post the drawings he gave him up in his dorm room, but it still makes his skin crawl. He can’t even picture these people in his head, but they’ve seen his artwork. His pride. His soul.

Dean manages to smile. “Well, good. Only losers don’t like Ewoks.”

Cas fondly shakes his head, putting a hand on his hip and looking back at the Roadhouse. “My teammates like victory parties, so I ended up going to one or two of those, but I’m not a fan of drinking or the drunk.” His eyes dart towards Dean, and for a brief second, Dean’s afraid Cas is going to ask the questions he doesn’t want to answer. But the moment passes quickly. “Balthazar had a pretty decent collection of films, though, so he helped you guys in your cause to educate me.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “What movies did you see?”

Cas hums softly for a moment, then starts ticking them off on his fingers. “ _Moulin Rouge, Forrest Gump, Psycho, Spirited Away_ -”

“You watched Studio Ghibli with them?” Dean says sharply, suddenly annoyed. He had wanted to introduce Cas to Ghibli films, sit next to him and watch his reaction as they went through all those magical, beautiful adventures with gutsy young characters, Totoro and Kiki and Chihiro and Sophie. He’d wanted to draw pictures of them, give them all to Cas, because he missed the way Cas’s eyes lit up when he saw Dean’s scribbles. No one else reacts that way, that quiet awe, like Dean just handed him a genuine Klimt, instead of a shaky pencil sketch on two-dollar paper.

Cas tilts his head, confused. “Ghibli?”

“Yeah, Studio Ghibli. Home of Hayao Miyazaki?” Dean scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “They didn’t even bother to mention that important little tidbit?”

“It was usually just me and Balthazar,” Cas corrects.

Dean scowls outright. “Yeah? Date night at the country club?” he snaps venomously, though he’s not even sure why he’s so angry about this.

Cas’s lips part in surprise, hurt flashing in his eyes. “The fuck is your problem?”

Cas hanging out with some faceless, rich asshole his parents probably love, watching all the movies Dean wanted to introduce him to. Spending time with people of his own station, people who won’t tell him all the important behind the scenes things, who won’t engage him in a discussion about the cinematography or the animation or the music.

Dean blinks, surprised at himself. When did he get so possessive? “Nothing. Sorry.”

“I’m allowed to make friends at school, Dean. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I know, I said I’m sorry.” Dean scuffs his toes through the gravel, shoves his hands in his pockets, and sighs. “Do you want a ride back?”

Cas’s eyes flick up and down, studying him. Dean’s about to protest and offer another apology, but then Cas smirks. “Will I survive?”

Dean blinks before laughing aloud, slapping a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Shut the fuck up and get in, you little shit.”

 

**May 31st, 2006**

 

Dean actually really enjoys getting to sit in at Sam’s soccer practices, as long as it’s sunny out and the wind’s not too strong. He gets to sit in the sunshine and watch Sam dominate the field, and he can doodle in his sketchbook and listen to birds, and it’s relaxing and pleasant in a way he doesn’t get to enjoy very often anymore.

Cas and Charlie are supposed to join him today, which makes it even better. He’d tried to get Lisa to come, but she’s agreed to spend a few days a week in Portland with her mom, and therefore isn’t available as often as Dean had hoped she’d be. He wants her to meet Cas so badly, and he can’t even explain why. He just wants Lisa to like Cas, that’s all.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t want her like Cas as much as Jo and Charlie and Pam like Cas. But she should at least approve of him and want to be his friend, right? Shouldn’t a girl want to be friends with her boyfriend’s friends?

Dean winces at that thought, and makes a mental note to call Victor later.

Sam’s team takes a water break just as Charlie and Cas arrive, and Sam all but launches his sweaty self at Cas. Dean grins, and Charlie giggles as she takes a seat next to him on the grass, while Cas carefully hugs Sam back, trying to keep the look of disgust and surprise off his face.

“I’m so happy you’re back!” Sam babbles once Cas has wiggled free and sat down on Dean’s other side. “MySpace just isn’t the same, y’know, plus you’re, like, never on it! I posted a bunch of bands in your comments, did you see? I think you’ll really like them!”

Cas smiles, serene and patient, and Dean adores anyone who can look at Sam like that, even when he’s going on about his stupid emo bands. “Yes, thank you, Sam,” Cas says. “I listened to all of them, and I’m glad to know they made you think of me.”

Sam is beaming, and he looks ready to start another long speech about the bands that Jo got him into, how they’re all interconnected but all sound totally different even though Dean couldn’t tell the Fall Out Boys from the Discos to save his life. Dean steps in, whistling to get Sam’s attention. “You better go get some water in you before practice starts again, Sammy,” he suggests, laughing when Sam makes a face and runs away with a quick wave. “Sam loves you almost as much as the girls do, Cas.”

Charlie smirks and shakes her head while Cas rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m very attractive,” Cas says drily. “Pam thinks so, Charlie and Jo think so, and you think so. I’m hotter than you, and it drives you crazy. This has been thoroughly established, multiple times.”

“Shut up,” Dean pouts. Charlie laughs outright, hiding it behind her hand when Dean turns to glare at her. Cas just smiles, that soft, small smile that looks so angelic but is actually just a perfect mask for his natural ability to be a little shit.

“Will Lisa be joining us today?” Cas asks, leaning back on his hands.

“She’s visiting her mom in Portland,” Dean mumbles, turning back to his sketchbook and ignoring Charlie when she pushes into his personal space to watch. “So nope, you don’t get to steal my girlfriend today.”

Cas chuckles quietly, which makes Dean smile. Charlie leans up against his shoulder, peering down at the drawing. “Is that Clementine?” she asks.

Dean grins outright. “Yeah.”

“Why are you drawing Clementine?”

Dean shrugs, knocking Charlie away. “I like her face and her hair. Do I need another reason?”

Charlie shakes her head, looking thoughtful, while Cas leans in to see, head tilted slightly. “Ohh,” he whispers, “ _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_. I watched that movie with Balthazar.”

Charlie laughs outright, completely missing the way Dean’s grip tightens around his pencil, the way his lines suddenly go dark and thick. “I kinda want to thank this guy for helping us out so much. Is he on MySpace?”

Yeah, let’s all go thank Balthazar the Great, who can’t even properly explain a movie to make sure Cas gets the full experience. Cas has seen Spirited Away, but he didn’t know what Studio Ghibli was, how good can Balthazar be? What good is watching a movie, if all you do is _watch_? The first time Dean and Lisa went on a date to the movie theater had been to some Amanda Bynes atrocity, and Lisa had actually been annoyed that Dean still paid more attention to the movie than to her. He can’t help it. His brain soaks up the information like a sponge, and then it wants to pass everything along and ensure everyone else has the same experience he does. Is that so wrong? To want Cas to _experience_ a film instead of just having background noise while he-

“ _Dean_!” Charlie is almost screaming in his ear, and Dean jumps back, practically falling into Cas’s lap while she laughs.

“Dammit, Charlie,” Dean snaps, straightening himself back up and closing his sketchbook. “What the hell was that for?”

“Pay attention sometime!” Charlie rolls her eyes. “We were talking about next year’s classes. What did you sign up for?”

All the air rushes out of Dean’s lungs while blood rushes to his face. His eyes dart to Cas, but quickly turn back to Charlie. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation until closer to the school year, and he certainly didn’t want to have it around Cas. “Um. Y’know. The usual.”

Again, Charlie rolls her eyes; Dean manages to resist the urge to tell her her face is gonna get stuck that way. “Did you sign up for AP American Lit? There’s only one class this year and I missed having you to MST the assigned reading with this year, so please say you did.”

Dean swallows, glancing at Cas again. “I didn’t. Sorry.”

Charlie’s face falls. “Why not?”

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Didn’t qualify.”

The only sounds are the grunts of exertion and the tap of rubber from the playing field. Sam makes a killer pass, but Dean is too busy trying to seem casual and careless and blank to cheer him on. Charlie’s mouth is open in surprise, and Cas is eyeing Dean a little too closely for comfort. Dean wonders if Cas will put two and two together, or if he’ll be able to get away with keeping all his secrets this year.

Suddenly Charlie’s face twists up in anger, and her voice is low when she says, “It was all those parties, wasn’t it?”

Dean winces, then quickly tries to pull himself back together. He doesn’t look at Cas, but he can feel Cas’s gaze on him, hot like a stray ray of sunshine. “What?” Dean asks, nonchalant, but Charlie rolls her eyes yet again, refusing to hear any of it.

“You know how we feel about you hanging out with that creep Alastair, Dean, but you keep doing it, and now it’s going to affect your future? Why do you do this to yourself?” Her change in tone happens so quickly it catches Dean off-guard. One moment she’s furious, and the next she’s practically weeping. This time Dean does look at Cas, but Cas isn’t looking at him anymore. Cas’s eyes are turned toward the sky, thoughtful and lost, and Dean randomly thinks about drawing him, just like this, asking Cas to hold that pose and sketching him for a few hours. But Charlie is crying over him and Dean can’t ignore that, no matter how much he wants to.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dean says softly, turning back to Charlie and putting a hand on her shoulder. She quickly shrugs him off and gets to her feet, putting her hands on her hips. Dean is struck with the image of her as Wonder Woman, and he wishes he wouldn’t get all these great ideas at such terrible times.

“You need to stop going out with those people,” Charlie insists. “For your own good, Dean.”

She’s right, and Dean knows she’s right, but he can’t. It’s more complicated than she thinks it is, and he’s frustrated enough by that to snap at her, “Mind your own damn business, Bradbury.”

Her eyes narrow, and Dean braces himself for a fight, but to his surprise, Charlie just storms away without another word, her hair a cloud of red against a bright blue sky. Cas sighs softly as he watches her go.

“She’s right, y’know,” Cas murmurs.

Dean closes his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, then twists around to face Cas, opening his sketchbook once again. “Can I draw you?”

Cas turns to blink at him, surprised. His eyes catch the sunlight and Dean remembers how creepily obsessed he had been with Cas’s eyes last year. Not that he ever told anyone, of course, but Dean can’t remember ever seeing someone with eyes like that before. His own mother’s eyes are blue, but they don’t catch the light and shift the way Cas’s do, nor do they draw and hold Dean’s attention the same way. He feels like he’ll grow old and die before he ever truly captures Cas’s eyes on a page, but that thought just fills him with the burning desire to keep trying.

Lisa’s eyes are honey-colored. They widen when she smiles, and a little wrinkle appears between them when she’s angry. She has long eyelashes, like Dean’s, which is fun when they’re making out, though Dean would never tell anybody he likes butterfly kisses. He’s drawn her a few times, and she’s always beautiful, and her eyes always come out just fine.

Maybe that’s why he’s so frustrated by Cas’s.

Cas shifts uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder at where Charlie has just disappeared, but then he shrugs. “Sure. If you want.”

Dean smiles.

 

**June 3rd, 2006**

 

Sometimes Dean wonders if he’s weird for not liking days off.

He likes working at Bobby’s. He doesn’t get to do much, since he’s only sixteen and there are laws about how long Bobby can work him, but routine things like tire and oil changes are easy and he makes six bucks an hour and he gets to let his mind wander while he’s there. He doesn’t have to worry about drunk kids or bruised knuckles, he doesn’t have to think about how much he needs Lisa and Cas to get along, and he doesn’t have to think about his fight with Charlie. He can just get his hands dirty and drift for a while.

When he has a day off, though, especially one that’s rainy and gray like this one, he doesn’t have that distraction. Maybe if Sam was home, they could play Mario Kart for a while, but Sam had run out the door not too long after Dean woke up this morning. Probably to meet up with Sarah. Again.

So Dean’s home alone, with nothing to do but draw and watch movies, neither of which are really as distracting as he needs them to be. For the millionth time, he considers taking an art class at the community college in Astoria, something to fill his days off, only to quickly remind himself that he doesn’t have the time, the money, or the talent.

He’s standing in the kitchen, trying to decide if he wants to make a quesadilla or macaroni and cheese, when he hears a knock at the door. He frowns, peering around the corner. He’s not expecting anyone today: Charlie’s mad at him, Lisa’s still out of town, Jo and Pam had gone shopping in Portland this morning, Garth’s volunteering, and Ash had wanted to spend some time on his newest project. Cas might have snuck away, though, and the image of Cas standing on the front porch looking like a drowned rat makes Dean smile and head for the door.

But when he glances out the window, there’s a head of bright red hair waiting for him.

“Charlie?” Dean opens the door and studies her carefully, tightening his jaw. “Are you gonna hit me?”

She blushes, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Something is off about her stance, her eyes darting back and forth, never really settling on Dean for longer than a few seconds. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

That’s the last thing Dean expected her to say.

“What the hell for?”

“For snapping like that.” Charlie shrugs, and apparently finds something really interesting in the flowerpots lining the dining room window. “You get to choose your friends, and I guess as long as I don’t have to hang out with them, it’s not my place to judge you or make demands.”

Dean narrows his eyes, waiting for the punchline, but it never comes. Charlie just shifts anxiously, her hands behind her back. If Pam were here, she’d probably make some comment about Charlie’s aura, but to Dean, it just looks like she needs someone to talk to, and Dean was the only one available. So he sighs and stands back, gesturing her in through the front door, and she gives him a small smile when she passes him.

“I was hoping we could watch a movie,” Charlie says after hanging her jacket up. There’s a blue DVD case in her hand, and she tilts back and forth on her heels, smiling weakly, until Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?”

“Perfect!” Charlie hesitates a moment longer, then takes a deep breath and holds the DVD out to Dean. She goes still when he takes it, and shakily withdraws her hand, tucking it into the pocket of her jeans. Dean studies her, still confused, as her smile starts to fade.

“What’s going on?”

Charlie bites her lip and turns her eyes away. “Just tell me if you’re down for the movie or not.”

Dean watches her carefully for another moment, then flips the DVD case over. There’s an unhappy blonde girl in a pink dress on the cover, and the whole thing looks cheap. “‘ _But I’m A Cheerleader_ ,’” Dean reads, then scoffs. “Is this some kinda chick flick?”

Charlie’s whole face falls, taking Dean by surprise. “We don’t have to watch it,” Charlie starts, but Dean puts a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to try and meet her eyes.

“Why do you want to watch it?”

“It’s not important, Dean-” She reaches for the DVD, but Dean holds it up over his head, out of her reach. She sighs and rolls her eyes before meeting his gaze. “Read what it’s about.”

Dean furrows his brow, but takes a few steps back before lowering the box to read the summary on the back. Blah blah ‘teen comedy,’ yadda ya ‘coming of age,’ la dee da ‘sexual discovery.’ Dean’s not sure what sets the movie apart from any other teen comedy he and Charlie have seen lately, but then he actually notices the pictures adorning the back cover, and the term ‘sexual discovery’ takes on a whole new meaning.

The blonde girl from the cover is holding hands with another girl.

The film features RuPaul. At a rehabilitation camp.

Dean blinks, then lifts his head to stare at Charlie. “This… is this a movie about lesbians?”

Charlie laughs weakly, shifting her weight. “Yeah.”

“Why do you want to watch a movie about lesbians?” Dean frowns, flipping the case over in his hands. “How did you _get_ a movie about lesbians?”

Charlie rolls her eyes and plucks the case from his hands, hugging it protectively against her chest. “A magical place I like to call, _Amazon_ ,” she says, somehow managing a mocking tone even as she attempts to use the DVD as a shield.

Dean huffs. “Well, that answers one question.” He crosses his arms over his chest, pointedly staring at Charlie, waiting for her to break under the silence. It only takes a few moments before she makes a noise of frustration, hiding her face behind the DVD.

“I thought you’d enjoy a movie about lesbians,” She says, quiet and frantic.

“Why’d you think that?”

“‘Cause you’re a guy.” Charlie swallows, shifting back on her heels. “A straight guy.”

And it clicks. Dean feels like an absolute idiot when it hits him, and he rubs his hand over his mouth, turning the concept over in his head a few times, until everything has moved around and made space for it to settle in. “You’re not a guy, though,” Dean says slowly, hesitant to actually put the idea into words. “And you’re not… straight?”

The rain pounds against the bay window, steady and uncaring. Charlie peers over the top of the DVD case, eyes wide, and Dean stays still, afraid of startling her. Thunder rolls in the distance, and Charlie takes a little breath.

“I… maybe not?”

Dean blinks a few times, his lips parting in surprise. “‘Maybe not?’”

“I don’t think so?”

“Oh.” Dean swallows. “Have you mentioned this to anybody else?”

“No.” Charlie lowers the DVD case and carefully places it on the back of the couch. “I thought about it a long time before I decided to tell you first.”

There are a million questions rolling around in Dean’s head, some important, and some just plain curiosity. Does she like boys at all? Is there a particular girl she’s interested in? Is Dean supposed to keep this between them? But he pushes them all aside and steps forward. She winces and holds her hands up when he moves, which makes his heart twist painfully, but he pulls her into a tight hug, cradling her head in his neck. He feels her gasp against his skin, but soon enough, her arms are wrapped around him, her hands gripping his shoulders, and she starts to shiver, but Dean just holds her tighter.

“I’m not a very good talker,” he mumbles into her hair, “but if you ever need to talk to somebody, I’ll listen.”

Charlie draws back and smiles at him. Her eyes are shiny, but the smile is real, so Dean returns it. “Thanks, Dean,” she says quietly, stepping back out of his reach. She picks up the DVD again and sighs. “So. Do you want to watch it with me?”

Dean pretends to think about it, humming softly as he shifts his weight onto one leg and studies the ceiling. “If you’re gay, does that mean you don’t want to cuddle up with me anymore? ‘Cause that’s gonna be a dealbreaker, sorry to say.”

The smile on Charlie’s face is blinding, and she rubs at her eyes before reaching out to slap Dean’s arm. “You have a girlfriend to cuddle with, what do you need me for, Winchester?”

“Can’t a guy like curling up with his best friend to watch a movie?”

“Well,” Charlie says with a sigh, “You don’t have boobs, but I guess you’ll have to do.”

That smile stays on her face for the rest of the day, until Mary comes home to find Charlie tucked under Dean’s arm while they watch _Fargo_. “You guys look like you had a good day,” Mary comments as she hangs up her coat. Charlie turns her grin to Dean, and he matches it.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, “It was pretty good.”

 

**June 5th, 2006**

 

Lisa looks incredible in her new white dress, an orange scarf wrapped around her waist. The contrast against her tanned skin is setting off all kinds of alarms in Dean’s head, where he kind of wants to take her down to the beach and draw her as she dances in the sand, but he also kind of wants to get her in the bed of his truck and find out if her thighs are as tan as her shoulders.

They’re sitting on the patio outside Fulio’s, waiting for Mary to get off work. The wind is up, which isn’t unusual, and Lisa’s putting her hair up in a ponytail, fidgeting with the elastic. Dean smiles slightly.

“Nervous?”

Lisa blinks at him, tugging her ponytail tight, then dropping her hands to her lap. “No. Should I be?”

“You’re meeting my mom. You tell me.”

They’ve been dating since March, so Mary and Lisa have managed to pass each other a few times, like ships in the night, but with Mary’s work schedule, and Dean and Lisa still in school, and Dean himself working at the garage, there hasn’t really been time for them to do more than say hello and good-bye. This kind of get-together is such a rarity that Dean had even invited Cas, hoping to kill two birds with one stone, but Cas’s mom was around for the day, and there’s no sneaking out when Naomi’s watching.

“She always seemed really sweet, when I saw her around town,” Lisa says quietly, staring at the table. “I don’t know, though. You’re the man of the house, and I guess I’m stealing you away.”

Dean snorts, then covers his grin with his hand. “‘Man of the house?’ Me?”

Lisa smirks and rolls her eyes. “You bring in money, don’t you? Take Sam to soccer practice? Buy and make food? C’mon, Dean, you’re more like Sam’s father than his brother. If that doesn’t make you ‘man of the house,’ I don’t know what does.”

Dean feels a prickle of irritation at her words. They’re true, at the end of the day, but Dean doesn’t particularly like to hear it. It feels like a slight against him, against his mom, his dad, and all the ways his family has had to make sacrifices. He knows that Lisa doesn’t mean it to be offensive, so he forces a smile, leaning over the table and resting his chin in his hand.

“You don’t get to really steal me away for a couple more years, babe,” he says with a wink. Lisa shakes her head, smiling.

In the comfortable silence, Dean’s phone goes off. He glances through the restaurant’s window, and when he doesn’t see Mary, he goes ahead and flips his phone open without looking at the call screen. “Yeah?”

“Hope you’re not busy, Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his mouth as Alastair’s voice slithers through the phone and into his ear. He’d been afraid that the parties would pick up now that school’s out, and had considered himself lucky not to have been called about them yet. But Dean’s luck never lasts very long.

“Little bit,” Dean mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you want?”

“Now, Dean,” Alastair says, low and patronizing, “Be nice. Don’t you think you deserve a little relaxation? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, or so they say.”

“I’m out with my girlfriend,” Dean insists, glancing at Lisa and hating the look of concern on her face. “Tonight’s no good.”

“That’s not the way it works. You know that.”

Dean watches Lisa, the wind casting stray locks of hair about her cheeks and ears, ruffling her bangs as she watches him back, her brown eyes wide. The light is starting to dim as the sun prepares to set, but Lisa is still glowing, and Dean sighs. He’d wanted to take her to the beach tonight, sit out on a towel under the stars until her curfew. He’d wanted to hold her close, feel her breath on his neck when she laughs, her warm skin buzzing underneath his hands.

He wants to protect her. But he can’t do that laying on a beach.

“When,” Dean says. Lisa frowns and looks out at the ocean.

Alastair gives him the information, and luckily the party starts late enough that Dean can at least get through dinner before he has to leave. It works, because Mary only has an hour before she has to go to her shift at the Roadhouse, so she won’t ask questions. Lisa learned during the school year that Dean would occasionally have to skip out on plans at the last minute. As far as she knows, it’s a job, though Dean’s pretty sure that, if Lisa were to spend more time with his friends, she’d figure out he was ditching her for parties pretty quickly. A part of him wants to tell her, this is _for_ her. He goes to these parties to help Alastair get new clients and to help him keep the current ones in line, and if he has to get drunk to do the job, then that’s the way it is. As long as it keeps Lisa, and Sam, and Charlie and Jo, and everyone else that Dean cares about, as long as it keeps them safe from Alastair and his crew, then Dean will do what he has to do.

He hangs up the phone, and reaches across the table to take Lisa’s hand, but she moves away before he can. “More work?” she says, voice clipped and cold.

“I’m sorry, Lis, really, I just…” Dean trails off, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t want Lisa to have any idea of what it is he does for Alastair, but that leaves him without any excuses or a chance to really apologize. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“I’m sure.” Lisa’s lips are pressed in a tight line, her brow furrowed, and Dean sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

Mary arrives just then, beaming and carrying a couple boxes of pizza. Lisa manages to smile back at her, to initiate a conversation, and Dean takes comfort in the fact that she didn’t just walk away. She wouldn’t put this kind of effort into getting along with his mom if she wanted to break up. That’s good.

But he knows, he’s not going to get away with this for much longer.

 

\-----

 

Later, Dean stumbles out onto an unfamiliar porch, down a set of unfamiliar stairs, and takes a seat in the grass on an unfamiliar lawn. The sky is spinning above him, and his knuckles are bleeding, and his ears are still ringing with the sound of teenagers jeering as he beat up some poor kid who got a little too drunk and mouthed off to the wrong person. Alastair had laughed and wondered if he should charge extra to watch Dean fight people, and Dean’s stomach rolls at the thought. He groans softly and puts his head in his hands, feeling inexplicably alone and desperate.

He’s drunk enough that he doesn’t realize he’s dialed his phone until a tinny voice comes from the speaker, saying his name and sounding uneasy.

Dean brings the phone to his and slurs, “Whos’is?”

There’s a pause before the other end quietly responds, “Dean, _you_ called _me_ ,” and that’s Cas’s voice, rough and sleepy, so Dean swallows and rubs a hand over his eyes when Cas continues, “Are you all right?”

“Drunk,” Dean grunts. “Stupid drunk.”

“Where are you?”

“Seaside.”

There’s a rustle of fabric, and Cas sighs, making the speaker crackle. “Do you need me to come get you?”

Dean laughs softly. “You’d do that f’r me?”

“Gladly.” Something creaks softly, and Dean closes his eyes, leaning back into the grass, and finding his heart aches when Cas says, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late.”

“What?”

“Got in a fight, don’t worry.” Dean chuckles, resting his hand against his forehead. “I won, so no big.”

Cas is quiet for a long time before he says, “Dean, if you need me to come pick you up, I will.”

Dean opens his eyes and thinks about it. It’d save him from having to sleep off his inebriation in the truck, and get him away from Alastair and Lilith. He could get Bobby to bring him out here to pick the truck up in the morning. It’d piss Alastair off that he ducked out on his duties, but maybe no one would even notice he was missing amidst all the kids and chaos.

But a voice tugs at Dean’s brain, whispering softly, _you don’t deserve to be saved_. He’s a violent thug, he broke a kid’s nose tonight and left that kid in tears while his so-called ‘friends’ laughed and cheered. He’s a drunk at sixteen, trying to numb himself with booze, just like the father he so rarely hears from. He abandons his girlfriend for these parties, he fights with his real friends because of them, and he’s throwing away his future for this?

Not that he had much of a future anyway.

“Dean,” and Cas sounds abnormally loud in his ear, his voice breaking over the single syllable, and Dean realizes he’s spoken all of this aloud.

“Shit, Cas, I’m-”

“No.” Cas sniffles, and Dean wonders if he’s made his friend cry, and if so, why someone like Cas would ever cry over someone like him. “Dean, I’m coming to get you. Okay?”

“What about-”

“I’ll take Gabe’s car, no one will even miss me. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there in twenty.”

Dean takes a few deep breaths, then tells him.

Cas is there in fifteen.

When he helps Dean stand, supports him with a hand around his waist, Dean leans his head into Cas’s shoulder, and wonders if this is what it’s like to feel safe, and protected. He wouldn’t know. He’s always the one doing the protecting.

Cas’s hand tightens, gripping Dean’s t-shirt taut around his hip, and Dean hopes he didn’t say all of that aloud too.

 

**June 10th, 2006**

 

Dean makes macaroni and cheese for lunch, and though Sam whines about having it again, Cas actually seems pretty pleased.

“I’ve never had it out of a box before,” Cas says, and even though it’s just another reminder that he and Dean aren’t exactly equals, Dean still finds himself laughing and telling Cas to eat up.

Sam wolfs his down before running upstairs to do whatever it is twelve year-olds do by themselves, and because Dean knows Sam will be hungry again in an hour, he quickly cleans the kitchen and puts the leftovers in a bowl in the fridge, just enough to keep Sam from tearing the pantry apart before dinner. Cas watches all of this with a little smile, and insists on cleaning his own bowl.

“You’ve never cleaned a bowl in your life,” Dean teases.

Cas shrugs. “Maybe that’s why I want to.”

Once the dishes are done, Cas follows Dean down to his basement bedroom, and immediately heads for the old record player, carefully flipping through Dean’s records. He chooses Boston’s self-titled album, and Dean flops down onto his bed with a grin as music fills the room.

“Did you pick that at random, or did you finally realize I have perfect taste?” Dean stretches out on the sheets, grinning when Cas drops down next to him.

“You’ve kind of got a limited selection, Dean,” Cas says, smirking up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. “It’s this, or borrowing one of Sam’s CDs.”

“Nope,” Dean says quickly, mirroring Cas’s position. “Nuh-uh, not happening. There will be no Disco whatevers playing in my room.”

“They’re called Panic! at the Disco, Dean, and a little branching out wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Nope, this is my sanctuary, and that band name is terrible, so their music must be terrible.”

Cas turns and raises an eyebrow. “Because ‘Led Zeppelin’ is such a great name.”

“Hell yeah it is.” Dean grins.

They fall silent, letting the music swell and take over, washing the room in guitars and drums and noise. Dean’s foot starts to twitch in time, until Cas’s foot stretches over to press against him, forcing him to still. It’s comfortable, the two of them laying side by side on the bed, Cas’s toes pressed up against the arch of Dean’s foot.

Maybe too comfortable.

Dean swallows. “So when are you gonna meet Lisa?” he asks, his voice too loud. Cas withdraws his foot, and Dean pretends it doesn’t feel like a loss.

“Is she back in town?” Cas answers, eyes on the ceiling. The fan blades are spinning above their heads, keeping the air moving and adding a low-volume hum underneath the music. “Mother flew out to Louisiana this morning, and Michael’s in Portland for the rest of the week, so whenever Lisa’s ready, so am I.”

Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and immediately sends a text saying as much to Lisa. Cas laughs softly, shaking his head, and Dean narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing, just…” Cas glances at Dean briefly, then shifts, rolling over onto his side. “You never told me how you finally asked Lisa out.”

Dean furrows his brow, carefully studying Cas’s face. It’s not a very interesting story: Lisa had ended up in both Dean’s biology and geometry classes. He took the opportunity to get to know her better, and to befriend her, and her friend Victor in order to have a better idea of whether or not they were dating each other. It took four months of harassment and teasing from Charlie, Jo, and Pam for Dean to finally work up the courage to approach Lisa during lunch and invite her out for ice cream. Luckily, she had already decided that she found him charming, and happily accepted.

Dean relays this to Cas, who smiles slightly and closes his eyes. His head is pillowed on his bicep, and Dean is acutely aware of just how close Cas’s knee is to his own thighs.

“It’s funny,” Cas says, apparently completely unaware of how much heat is radiating from his body, like a beacon everywhere they’re almost-but-not-quite touching. “I can tell you to suck it up and ask a girl out and not care if she rejects you, but I can’t take my own advice.”

Dean moves to mirror Cas’s position on his side, putting a little more space between them as he does so. “You got a girl you wanna date?”

Cas opens his eyes, and Dean has to blink a little to readjust to that astute gaze. “No,” Cas says slowly, thinking about it. “Not exactly. But, were I to find one, I can’t promise I could be as bold as you.”

Clearly he’s lying about there not being a girl - there’s always a girl- but Dean opts not to call him on it. Instead, he takes a deep breath before offering up his cheekiest grin. “C’mon, Cas. Don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?”

“Remember? ‘No homo, but you’re fucking hot.’ We don’t need to have that conversation again, do we?”

Cas’s eyes flicker to Dean’s lips before his cheeks turn red. “No,” Cas mumbles, turning his gaze to Dean’s blue bedspread, picking at a hole in the fabric. “I remember.”

Dean can feel heat climbing up his neck and into his face, because he can remember too. That accidental kiss that maybe wasn’t so accidental, but Cas doesn’t know that and he doesn’t _need_ to know that, and Dean would really be better off if he could convince himself that it really _had_ been an accident after all.

It doesn’t matter anyway, Dean tells himself. He’s dating Lisa now, and apparently Cas has somebody in mind too. Neither of them are gay and it was just a stupid drunk accident.

“So yeah,” Dean says, rolling onto his back again, just to have an excuse not to look at Cas. “You’re a dreamboat, everybody knows it. Any girl you ask would have to be blind not to say yes.”

“Yeah,” Cas says softly, “I guess.” Dean can feel him shifting on the bed, the springs creaking in protest, but he resolutely keeps his eyes on the ceiling fan, following a single blade until his head starts to hurt. Cas clears his throat. “I don’t really have time to date anyway, between running and getting my schoolwork done.”

“I managed,” Dean offers cheerfully. “I don’t run, of course, but I have the garage. Lisa understands.”

“You didn’t do much schoolwork either, according to Charlie.” Cas probably doesn’t mean for it to sound so accusatory, but Dean tenses anyway, finally turning to meet Cas’s eyes.

“I did enough,” Dean says tersely, frowning. Cas squints and tightens his jaw.

“Enough partying, maybe,” and that’s _definitely_ accusatory, but it’s not one Dean can fight against, after Cas went to the trouble of rescuing him from Seaside at two in the morning. Instead, Dean has the dignity to lower his gaze and take a few deep breaths.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Dean-”

“No, Cas. You know why I work with Alastair.” Dean forces himself to laugh, grinning easily, and really it’s no wonder he got this ‘promotion’ within Alastair’s crew. He’s so damn good at pretending to be happy, after all. “Besides, what’s the point of school anyway? Not like it’s gonna do me any good.”

Guitars and drums fill up the empty space while Cas gapes, before he sits up and shakes his head. “Dean, what are you talking about?”

“Best I’ll get is work at Bobby’s garage, maybe some shifts at the Roadhouse. Why shoot for more when I know I won’t get it?”

“Dean,” Cas breathes, “you have an incredible artistic talent. Are you really telling me you’d throw that away?” When Dean doesn’t respond, Cas huffs. “On what? Parties with strangers?”

The immediate urge is to throw a punch, to put his knuckles right in Cas’s mouth, but Dean refrains, tells himself to save it for the next house party. Instead, he sits up, glaring at Cas, who glares right back.

“Thought you knew me better than that,” Dean says, voice low and tight.

“I do,” Cas snaps right back. “But you can’t tell me you’re giving up your entire future just to protect Sam for a few years.” Suddenly Cas’s eyes go wide, just before they soften. “Unless… it’s not just for a few years?”

Dean blinks at Cas, lips parted in surprise. For some reason, Dean honestly didn’t expect Cas to figure it out so quickly. Maybe it’s because Cas isn’t around all the time, because until a couple weeks ago they did all their communicating online, but Cas still managed to reach right in and find the bloody heart of the matter, leaving Dean breathless and uncertain. Cas watches him closely, his expression slowly falling apart until he reaches over and puts a hand on Dean’s chest.

“Dean,” Cas whispers, “it doesn’t have to be you or Sam. You don’t have to keep making these sacrifices.”

“Yes I do,” Dean answers, just as soft. “Dad’s child support payments are still unpredictable, and Mom needs help with the bills. I’m the man of the house, I need to help her, and I need to help Sam.”

“Who says you’re the man of the house?” Cas says. “You’re sixteen. You’re not a man.”

“Old enough to get a job and help Mom keep food in the house.”

“Shit, Dean,” and Cas must be upset if he’s resorted to swearing, “what about college? You’re just not even going to try and get into college?”

“Why should I?” Dean snaps. “There won’t be enough money for both me and Sam to go, and Sam’s got bigger dreams. He should be allowed to chase them, shouldn’t he?”

“So should you!” Cas is gripping both of Dean’s shoulders now, and Dean hadn’t realized how close they were, that he can’t really see or focus on anything but the sheen in Cas’s eyes, the pink anger in his skin. “Dean, Sam can get scholarships. He’s an athlete, for all you know schools will be falling over themselves to court him!” Cas puts a hand over his face and draws back, taking a deep breath. “What does Sam want to do?”

“Law,” Dean answers promptly. “He wants to be a lawyer, help out kids and families like ours.”

“That’s a pretty big dream,” Cas says, the corners of his lips twitching up. “And what do you want to do?”

Now, Dean hesitates. He meets Cas’s eyes, then immediately switches to staring at the wall behind him. “I want to…” he starts slowly, chewing on his lower lip. “I… I just want to make sure Sam-”

“Nope.” And Cas is in Dean’s space again, a hand pressed firmly over his mouth. Dean’s breath hitches before he protests, but Cas leans in even closer, so that Dean has no choice but to meet Cas’s eyes. “There has to be something _you_ want to do, something separate from Sam. So tell me.”

But when Cas removes his hand, Dean can only keep staring. “I don’t… know,” he says quietly, after a long silence. The album has run itself out, skipping over white noise, but neither of them bother to get up and change the album, or even just to lift the needle. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“You should,” Cas suggests. “I don’t think Sam wants your life to revolve around him. And I don’t think your mother wants that for you either.”

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but stops short when he remembers his birthday earlier this year. Mary had taken the day off and baked him a pear pie, before taking him to meet his friends down to the arcade in Seaside. On the drive home, while Dean had still been happy and full, he’d told her about Bobby’s promise, that he’d start working in the garage that week, and he wanted to give her half of each paycheck.

Mary had refused, point blank. She’d said she’d prefer him to focus on school before worrying about work, and if he really wanted a job, then he should at least spend the money on himself. Dean had quietly agreed.

But when groceries started magically appearing in the pantry, Mary hadn’t said a word.

“I’ll think about it,” Dean says weakly. “Okay?”

Cas watches him closely for a few moments, then gets up off the bed. He pauses by the record player to lift the needle, then grabs Dean’s sketchbook and flips through the pages. Dean tenses when Cas stops, but then a smile lights up Cas’s face, and Dean finds himself smiling too.

Cas sits back down next to Dean and hands the sketchbook over, still grinning. “Think about art classes, Dean,” he says, tapping on the page. It’s an ink drawing of Kyriel, and it’s only with Cas sitting next to him that Dean realizes he’s completely modeled the character after his friend.

“Whatever you say, Cas,” and he means it to sound cocky and dismissive, but it comes out shy. Eager for a distraction, Dean crosses his legs and places the sketchbook on his lap, pulling his pencil out of the coiled wire and carefully adding gray shadows to Kyriel’s coat. Cas stretches out on the bed behind him, his toes toying with the belt loops on Dean’s jeans.

Again, this is far too comfortable.

But Dean just keeps his face down, to hide his blush, and says nothing.

 

**June 12th, 2006**

 

“Don’t you fellas have anywhere better to be?”

Dean slings an arm over the back of the booth and grins up at Ellen. She remains unimpressed, her hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised, but Dean’s knows her too well to be intimidated. “Is there really a finer establishment in Sileas than the Roadhouse?”

“Depends what you’re here for.”

“Lunch date.”

Ellen’s other eyebrow raises as she glances across the table at Cas, who is staring out the window at the ocean down the hill. Dean laughs abruptly. “Jesus, Ellen, no! We’re meeting Lisa here.”

“Lunch date for three?” Ellen says skeptically. It’s only when Cas turns and fixes her with an ethereal smile that she finally loses the frown and says, “All right, then. I’ll bring some milkshakes out when she gets here.”

“You know how I like ‘em,” Dean jokes, but only succeeds in making Ellen’s frown return. As soon as she walks away, Dean pouts at Cas. “How come she likes you more than me?”

“Everybody likes me more than you,” Cas says flatly, turning back to the window. It’s gray outside, and windy, leaving the water almost black, so Dean’s not sure what he finds so fascinating out there. It rains a lot in Oregon. It probably rains a lot wherever Cas lives too. So what?

Dean manages to keep that to himself though. He’s trying to be on his best behavior, since Lisa and Cas both mean so much to him. It leaves him nervous for several reasons, though his biggest concerns are the possibilities that they’ll either hate each other, or they’ll like each other too much.

He’s pretty sure they won’t hate each other. Lisa is sweet and sunny and laughs at Dean’s jokes, and while Cas is more dry and kinda quiet, sometimes he laughs at Dean’s jokes too. They both like Dean, at the end of the day, so there’s really no reason they won’t like each other.

He is genuinely concerned about Lisa swooning over Cas, though. Every other girl he knows has done it. Even Charlie, and it turns out she’s pretty gay. And Dean occasionally catches himself studying the bridge of Cas’s nose, the dip of his chin, the length of his neck, though he likes to tell himself that it’s all in the name of art. And that it’s not weird that he likes drawing Cas so much. Or that he ends up heavily basing his favorite characters on Cas.

Totally not weird.

To be honest, though, Cas looks like a painting right now, brooding in the dim light, his hand tucked under his chin. Dean’s hands almost ache for a pen, even if all he does is sketch this onto a napkin, something to help him remember how to capture this moment in his sketchbook later. He’s only shaken out of his latest Study of Castiel Milton when someone clears their throat next to the table, and Cas turns to smile.

“Hello,” Cas says, scooting out of the booth and extending his hand. “You must be Lisa.”

“How’d you guess?” Lisa teases. She takes Cas’s hand to shake, though there’s something off about her smile. Dean blinks and decides it doesn’t matter as Lisa slides in next to him and leans in for a quick kiss. “This guy hasn’t been telling stories about me, has he?”

“Only good ones,” Cas promises.

“Same for you,” Lisa says earnestly. “I mean, honestly, I’m sorry it took so long for us to get together. Dean didn’t shut up about you all year.”

Dean makes a face at her when Cas smirks, looking a dozen kinds of pleased with himself. “Why’d you have to go and tell him that?” Dean groans.

Luckily, Ellen chooses that moment to arrive with a tray of milkshakes, setting them on the table before turning to Lisa and saying, “Don’t you know you’re too pretty for a lug like Dean?”

Lisa giggles when Dean protests. Cas is still smirking when he says, “That’s okay, Dean’s used to spending time with people who are prettier than he is.”

“That so?” Dean challenges, only realizing it’s a trap once the words are out of his mouth and Cas breaks into a grin.

“Of course,” Cas says, “you spend so much time with me, after all.”

“You’re hilarious,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. His arm drops to Lisa’s shoulders, pulling her in close to his side, and she smiles at him before taking a sip of her milkshake.

“So, Cas,” she says, “tell me about yourself.”

Turns out, Dean didn’t have to be worried. Lisa and Cas take over the conversation for a while, but while Dean stays quiet, Lisa intertwines their fingers under the table and turns to smile at him on occasion, never forgetting his presence. Dean feels something settle inside him, knowing that Lisa and Cas get along, but not in a way that means they’ll be eloping to Vegas anytime soon.

They share a brownie after lunch, and Lisa casually comments, “I’ve never known guys to be as close as you guys are.”

Dean takes a rather large bite, leaving Cas to ask, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Lisa pauses to swallow and set her fork aside. “Dean talked about you _all the time_. Seriously.” She laughs softly, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder, ignoring the way his eyes go wide. “When you sent him that expensive colored pencil set for his birthday? He spent about two weeks talking about how much he loved it and how happy he would’ve been just to get a card from you. At that point, I didn’t even know he could draw!” Again, she laughs, her smile bright against the gray clouds outside.

“You were just friends then,” Cas supplies, resting his chin on his hand. Lisa nods, and Cas’s eyes dart to Dean. “Well, he sent me a very kind gift for my birthday. I thought it only right to return the favor.”

“Dude.” Dean snorts. “It was a drawing of Ky and Jen. It cost me nothing. Those pencils were over a hundred bucks!”

“Didn’t I tell you value was subjective?” Cas frowns and shakes his head. “That drawing took time and determination, and you did it for me. Frankly, I thought the pencils weren’t enough, but what could I do?” He spreads his hands out in front of him and wiggles his fingers. “My hands are not as talented as yours.”

“I would’ve been happy with the phone call,” Dean says, completely sincere. Their phone calls over the school year had been few and far between, but Dean had still been delighted every time his phone lit up with Cas’s name. “Besides,” Dean adds with a smirk, “I don’t think you have any idea how talented my hands are.”

Cas arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean, I’ve seen your… oh,” he trails off and rolls his eyes when Dean laughs. “Put up or shut up, Dean.”

“I dunno, Cas, I think you underestimate yourself.” Dean reaches over the table and grips Cas’s wrist, tugging him closer. “You’ve got those delicate, upper-class hands. Gotta be somethin’ you can do with ‘em.”

“Not that you’d know anything about what my hands are capable of,” Cas shoots back, smirking as he pulls out of Dean’s grip.

“Maybe I’d like to find out.”

“You talk a big game.” Cas grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to actually play?”

Dean barks out a laugh. “Blow me, Cas.”

“You first.”

“ _Guys_!”

Both Dean and Cas jump when Lisa interrupts them, and only now does Dean realize he’s still leaning over the table, his fingertips brushing Cas’s. Blushing, Dean leans back in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. Cas turns to stare out the window again, and only then does Dean turn to smile at Lisa. She studies him closely, her lips pursed as if she’s trying to solve some sort of puzzle, and Dean’s not sure what she’s so confused about. Guys do this kind of posturing shit all the time, right? It’s just like how he is with Victor.

Right?

Finally, Lisa smiles again, though it’s small and shy. “I think we need to go, or we’re gonna miss the movie,” she says quietly, scooting out of the booth. Cas does the same, digging out his wallet and putting a bill under one of their empty milkshake glasses. Dean glares at him, but opts not to fight about it in front of Lisa. Instead, he smiles as Cas leans in to hug her, as she returns the affection and shakes his hand.

“I’m glad I got to meet you,” Cas says, before pointing at Dean. “Treat him right.”

“Of course,” Lisa responds, her nose twitching with offense. Dean slips an arm around her waist and gently shoves Cas’s shoulder.

“She’s not the one you have to worry about,” Dean jokes. Lisa shifts under his arm, and Cas just nods slowly.

“If you say so.” Cas takes a deep breath, then gives a short, awkward wave. “Enjoy your movie,” he says, turning to leave. Lisa calls a good-bye to his retreating back before quickly wrapping both arms around Dean’s chest and pulling him into a tight hug, her head buried in his shoulder. Dean laughs softly, running a hand through her hair.

“What’s this about?”

“Nothing,” she mumbles into his shirt before lifting her head. “What are we going to see?”

 

\------

 

For some reason, Lisa initiates an aggressive make-out session in the back of the theater. Dean actually hasn’t seen the new X-Men film yet, and even though Charlie had nothing good to say about it, he’d still wanted to watch it himself and come to his own conclusions.

But then Lisa takes his hand and places it under her shirt, under her bra, and he’s never gotten this far with her before. A little over-the-shirt action sometimes, but to actually be able to feel warm skin, to play with a nipple, to hear the little sounds she makes... there’s no way Dean’s saying no to _this_ , even for the X-Men.

Lisa stays handsy and affectionate once the movie’s over, as they hang out at the beach, then go out for dinner. Her fingernails playing under Dean’s shirt, her hand tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, and Dean’s not sure what brought all this on, but he’s certainly not going to fight it.

The best part comes later, at their spot on top of the hill, when Lisa shyly takes her shirt off before leaning in for a kiss. Dean has no idea what he did to deserve this, but he happily returns the favor, and they fog up the windows with curious hands and heavy breaths. It doesn’t go further than that, but mostly Dean’s just happy to finally know that Lisa wears cute patterned bras that contrast her tan skin, and that she liked the dusting of freckles on his shoulders.

Dean thinks that maybe it’s time to tell her he loves her. They’ve been together long enough, haven’t they? She makes him smile, she’s warm and sweet and perfect… what’s not to love?

But then they’ve redressed and she’s kissing him good-bye outside her father’s house, and with a brilliant smile and a brush of their hands, the moment is gone.

 

**June 17th, 2006**

 

Charlie and Jo are leaning against a tree, sharing an old copy of _Hush_ , when Dean arrives at the park. It’s a pleasant morning, though the gray sky in the distance is warning them to stay inside after lunch. Sam jumps out of the bed of the truck and helps Sarah down before darting off to the grassy playing field. Sarah’s figured out how to keep up with Sam pretty well, and Dean’s wondering if she’ll join a girls’ soccer league soon. She’s good enough.

Lisa steps out of the passenger side and takes Dean’s hand before they walk over and take a seat next to Charlie and Jo. Dean flicks the corner of the book and makes a face. “Lee draws the weirdest women.”

“I _know_ ,” Charlie groans, draping the book over her face in distress. “He’s almost as bad as Liefeld. But Loeb wrote it and it’s so good and I’m so _mad_ that he teamed up with _Lee_.” She makes another, gutteral noise of disgust, making Jo and Lisa laugh, before handing the book over to Dean. “At least that kiss turned out okay.”

Dean takes it and studies the drawing of Catwoman kissing Batman, then glances up at Charlie, a little smile playing at his lips. “I dunno. I guess it’s okay, if you like Catwoman with Batman. Doesn’t she kiss Ivy in this too?”

Charlie jerks the book out of his hands with a fierce glare, which only makes Dean break out in a grin. He’s been good, keeping her secret until she tells him not to, but it’s hard to resist teasing her sometimes. Besides, Lisa is slapping his shoulder and calling him a perv, so obviously he’s the one who comes off looking bad.

Charlie hides her face behind the book anyway, and Jo takes the opportunity to lean over and poke Dean in the ribs. “Hey. Dean. Big brother. Best friend since we were in diapers.”

Dean pushes her away and rubs at his side while Lisa giggles unhelpfully. “What do you want, Joanna Beth?”

“I still need somebody to drive me to the Panic! at the Disco concert in Portland.” Jo pushes out her lower lip and widens her eyes, looking pitifully up at Dean. “Mom bought extra tickets so whoever drove me wouldn’t have to sit out in the car.”

Dean grimaces and shakes his head. “No way. Sammy was already bugging me about it, but I refuse to contribute to the decimation of music.”

“Sam can have one of the extra tickets if you take us!”

“No means no.”

Jo sighs, heavy with disappointment, and Charlie reappears from behind her book to sympathetically pat Jo’s shoulder. “I’d take you,” Charlie says, “if I had a car.”

“That’s unhelpful,” Jo says drily. Dean raises an eyebrow at Charlie; as far as he knew, she was uninterested in that emo punk shit. Maybe not as disgusted by it as Dean, but definitely not a fan either. Charlie meets his eyes briefly, then hides behind her book again.

“Okay,” Dean says, turning to grin at Lisa. “I’ll take you and Sam if Lisa can be my plus one.”

“Of course!” Jo exclaims, at the same time Lisa shakes her head and says, “No way.”

“Why not?” Jo pouts, reaching out to take Lisa’s hands. “Come on! Help me, Lisa Braeden, you’re my only hope!”

Lisa laughs, squeezing Jo’s hands before gently pushing her away. “I could probably put up with the music, but let’s face it: there’s no way my dad is letting me go to _Portland_ , with _Dean_.”

“Sam and I would be there too,” Jo protests, but Lisa is still shaking her head.

“Nope. And this is at night, right? Yeah, my dad is warming up to Dean, but he’s not _that_ warmed up yet.”

Jo crosses her arms over her chest as Dean laughs and leans over to kiss Lisa’s temple. As Jo slouches over, deeply involved in her problem-solving, Dean kicks Charlie’s knee until she peers at him over the top of her book. “You got the _Long Halloween_ , right?”

“Of course, you wanna borrow it?”

“Hell yeah, Tim Sale is my-”

Jo sits up straight, her face lit up with a smile as she exclaims, “Invite Cas!”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Cas!” Jo crawls over and puts her hands on Dean’s shoulders, shaking him. “Cas can keep you company at the concert, that way you won’t be so bored you ruin everybody’s good time!”

“Now wait a damn minute,” Dean says, gently pushing Jo off him. “I didn’t even say I’d take you, now I’m ruining everybody’s good time?”

“I’ll pay for gas,” Jo offers.

“Nope, that means your mom will pay for gas, and she already paid for the tickets.”

Jo takes a deep breath, then yells for Sam, and Dean knows the argument’s over. He can refuse Jo all day long, taunting and teasing to see what she’s willing to give before finally shutting the door and proclaiming that no price is high enough. Sam, though? Dean would do anything for Sammy.

And he doesn’t appreciate Jo using that against him.

“Cheat,” he mutters, but Jo just grins her most charming grin when Sam and Sarah take a seat on Lisa’s other side.

“Sam, Dean’s being an asshole and I need you to talk some sense into him.”

“I’m not your personal chauffeur, Joanna Beth!” Dean snaps, but Sam just shakes his head. His hair flops out onto his ears and forehead, and Dean tries to do some quick math in his head, determine if he can pay for Sam’s next haircut himself or if he’ll have to ask Mary for money.

“What’s he being an asshole about?” Sam asks.

“He doesn’t want to take us to see Panic! at the Disco.”

“ _What_?!” And Dean groans, because now Sam is pulling that wounded puppy look, big hazel eyes and pathetic little frown. “C’mon, Dean! You can just take Lisa with you and make out in the back for all we care, all we need is a ride!”

Lisa laughs, hiding it behind her hand, and Dean can’t believe she’s being so unhelpful. “Lisa’s dad won’t let her come.”

“Cas, then!”

Everyone except Lisa snorts at the same time. Charlie is shaking behind her book, and Jo clamps a hand over her mouth, though that fails to keep her eyes from glittering mischieviously. Dean remains confused until Sarah rolls her eyes and nudges Sam. “Are you suggesting your brother make out with _Cas_ all night?” she says, and she sounds so logical for a twelve year-old that it’s almost funny. But then Dean remembers a clear night last June, with a drunken kiss that meant nothing, and yet he can feel his ears burning as his friends and his brother snicker at him.

Lisa’s the only other one not laughing. Instead, she’s looking at Dean, her eyes climbing over his face and neck, as he pointedly avoids looking back at her.

“You know what I mean,” Sam finally says, waving off everyone’s laughter. “You and Cas can hang out in the back and talk shit about the band or whatever. I don’t care. Just, please?” He crawls forward, begging his brother with a cheesy plea and an exaggerated pout. Jo scoots over to join him, a chorus of “Please, please, please?” and Dean throws his hands up.

“Fine!” he snaps, pushing both of them out of his space. “Fine, fucking fine, I’ll fucking talk to Cas and if he says yes, then I’ll take you guys to the concert, all right? But only if he says yes!” This piece of fine print doesn’t seem to matter, however, since Sam and Jo have already exchanged high fives and started cheerfully singing that stupid song about shutting the goddamn door.

Dean wishes they would shut their goddamn mouths.

He’s pulled out of his sulk when Lisa shifts next to him, getting to her feet and brushing grass off her shorts. He reaches for her hand, confused, but she gives him a small smile and says, “I’m just… a little warm. I think I’ll go home.”

It’s perfectly mild, almost chilly, and Dean squeezes her hand. “I could give you a ride?”

“No, that’s all right, it’s a short walk.” She smiles again and waves good-bye to everyone. Jo and Sam don’t even notice, but Charlie finally lowers her book to her lap and cocks an eyebrow at Dean.

“What’s that about?”

Dean shrugs, watching Lisa as she puts her hands in her pockets and keeps her eyes on the sidewalk, getting smaller and smaller as she gets further and further away. “No idea.”

 

**June 18th, 2006**

 

“Wait,” Dean laughs into the phone, tucked between his shoulder and his ear. “You’ve never been to a concert before?”

“Not a _rock_ concert,” Cas says, sounding miffed when Dean laughs again. He sets his bowl of sauce down, pleased with the scent of basil and honey spreading throughout the kitchen, and puts his cell phone on speaker, so he can prepare the chicken and talk to Cas at the same time.

“Please, don’t call these stupid assholes a ‘rock’ band. They are so far removed from rock,” Dean scoffs, shaking his head.

Cas snickers, soft and thin through the phone’s speaker. “Most modern music is a form of rock, Dean.”

“Jimi and Janis are rolling in their graves,” Dean mutters. “Well, I hate to make this band your first concert experience, so if you want to say no-”

“It sounds fun, actually.” Cas laughs outright when Dean groans. “Come on, Dean, they’re not terrible. The singer’s pretty good.”

“He’s lame, the music is lame, the circus schtick is lame.” Dean rolls his eyes, then takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus on his chicken, pouring the sauce on top. “Plus, they’re totally gay.”

Cas is quiet for a long moment, which leaves Dean feeling uncomfortable. There’s shifting static and soft breaths coming through the speaker, so Dean knows he hasn’t been hung up on, but he still feels an urge to apologize. Especially when he remembers Charlie.

“Not that there’s anything from with that,” Dean mumbles. Cas huffs into the speaker.

“No. There’s not.” An awkward pause. “No, okay, I’ll come. Anna’s been eyeing that concert too and if I go with you, then Gabe will have to go with her.” Cas laughs softly. “I’d rather go with you guys than with Anna.”

Dean smiles to himself, pleased, and places the chicken in the oven. Sure, he has to go to a concert he really doesn’t want to go to, but at least with Cas, he’ll have someone to talk to. To be entertained by. “All right, then. It’s a date.”

“No homo,” Cas supplies, and they both laugh. The sound fills the kitchen, and between Cas’s voice and the smell of honey-mustard chicken baking in the oven, Dean feels oddly at peace.

But peace never lasts.

“While I’ve got you here,” Cas says slowly, sounding nervous, “I wanted to make a suggestion.”

Dean chuckles softly, leaning over the kitchen counter and pulling the phone closer. “Well, I ain’t a suggestion box, but go ahead.”

“I thought it’d be fun if we went on a double date.”

Dean frowns, eyebrows furrowed. “A double date?”

“Yeah. You and Lisa, and me and somebody else.”

“Oh.” Dean sits up and clears his throat. “Well. I thought you might have somebody you liked.” His laugh sounds tight, even to his own ears, and he’s not quite sure why there’s a sinking feeling in his chest. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Bela.”

Something must be stuck in Dean’s ear, because there’s no way he heard that right. “Bela,” he repeats. “Bela _Talbot_?” Cas hums an affirmation, and Dean’s brain flatlines, too stunned to speak. Yeah, sure, there had been that whole thing last year, Bela showing up before the fight in a slinky dress with Cas in tow, but Cas had said he didn’t really like her and Dean had kissed him and then Cas left Bela in the dust. He couldn’t have changed his mind about her in less than a year, right? Especially because Dean knows for a fact that Cas goes to a private school on Long Island, and he’s pretty sure Bela goes to school in London, so it’s not like they had a lot of time to spend together and decide they liked each other.

Right?

“Dean?” comes from the speakerphone. “The service here is shit, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Dean croaks, and anger pounds between his temples. Bela’s a slut and a bitch, someone who gets a kick out of Dean’s violent after-school activities. She’s manipulative and arrogant, and he doesn’t want her anywhere near Cas. Or Lisa. Or any of his other friends. “Why the fuck would you go on a date with _Bela_ , Cas?”

“She’s not as bad as you think she is,” Cas says, and Dean can practically see him rolling his eyes, and the anger spreads down to his jaw, his teeth clenching. That’s easy for Cas to say. Once upon a time, Dean punched a kid so hard, a piece of his tooth got lodged in Dean’s finger. Bela had asked if she could have it, as a momento.

“She’s a bitch,” Dean spits, his hand slowly turning into a fist. “She’s crazy and bloodthirsty and all she wants is your dick and your money, you have to know that.”

“You don’t know anything about her, Dean,” Cas protests coldly.

“I know the worst things, and that’s enough for me.”

“People change-”

“What the fuck, Cas, do you really wanna fuck the bitch that badly?”

The line goes silent. Panic rises in Dean’s throat as he replays the conversation, as he’s struck by the image of Cas doing exactly that, of Bela kissing Cas and going down on him and making him her bitch, just another poor sex-craved guy on a lady’s leash…

Dean flips his phone shut and tosses it aside. Words are getting tangled on his tongue anyway, choking him, and he feels like his face is on fire. He rubs a hand over his eyes and groans. He fucked up, probably. Logic is foggy and distant, barely visible through a red haze, but Dean knows that Cas isn’t some sex-starved asshole, and he knows that Cas isn’t stupid enough to fall for Bela just because she puts out.

But that knowledge is buried under fear and nausea and anger.

It’s too much, this out-of-nowhere, overwhelming sense of disgust. Dean digs his nails into his forehead, then reaches for his phone. He’s never done this before. Usually, he waits for the jobs to come to him and does them reluctantly, but right now… he needs to drink until he doesn’t feel, and he needs to punch someone he doesn’t give a fuck about. He needs a release.

His phone starts to vibrate in his hand, and the screen glows with Cas’s name. Something tugs at Dean’s chest, but it’s just another sort of pain, so he clicks the button to ignore the call. Then, he opens up his address book and dials Alastair’s number.

Nausea reappears when Alastair’s voice slithers from the speaker, “Why, hello, Dean. What can I do for you on this fine evening?”

Dean takes a deep breath and clears his throat, trying to sound gruff and unaffected as he says, “You got any jobs tonight?”

Alastair laughs, low and pleased. “Can you make it to Astoria by seven? This kid has a large basement. I’d like to see what kind of profits you can bring in.”

Dean takes another breath and checks the clock. He’s got enough time to finish dinner and set it aside for whenever Sam gets home. “Yeah. I can do that. Address?”  
Alastair laughs again, and Dean pretends it doesn’t chill him to the bone.

 

**June 23rd, 2006**

 

Lisa’s nervous.

She’s trying to hide it behind smiles and affectionate touches and fidgeting with her blouse, but Dean can still tell. And even though he takes her hand and squeezes it, he can’t bring himself to tell her it’s okay, or that this will be fun, or any of those patronizing lies that he should probably tell her.

Dean hasn’t spoken to Cas since their fight about Bela, though that’s not to say Cas hasn’t tried. There are eight unheard voicemails on Dean’s phone, and a decent collection of ignored texts, but Dean is too ashamed of himself to respond. It doesn’t help that his stomach starts aggressively churning every time he sees Cas’s name, that his temples pound whenever he thinks of Cas taking Bela on dates, touching her thigh under the table, her lipstick on his neck.

Lisa makes a soft noise and pulls her hand out of Dean’s grip, smiling weakly when he glances at her. “You okay?” she asks, reaching over to put her hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You’ve got that twitch in your jaw going, like you’re mad about something.”

“I’m fine,” Dean says, turning to stare stubbornly at the sidewalk beneath his feet. “I’m glad you could come with me tonight.”

Alastair won’t be pleased when Dean tells him his new prize bull isn’t willing to fight tonight, but it’s just this once. Just to show Lisa his ‘job,’ help her understand the way Cas does. Because it’s not fair that Cas knows this and Lisa doesn’t. Because he’s supposed to be in love with Lisa, right? And that means he trusts her.

Yeah. Something like that.

Lisa folds her hands behind her back, shrugging. “I’m glad you finally told me what your super-secret job is,” she says softly. “I’ve never really been to a party like this before.”

Dean takes a short breath, squinting at the signs beneath the streetlights. “It’ll be… fun,” Dean tries, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. Lisa glances up at him, but quickly turns back to the sidewalk. Maybe she’ll accept it as Dean being distracted, trying to find the right house.

It’s easy enough to find the party once they turn up the hill. It’s already spread out into the street, beer cans littering the lawn, kids playing tag in the cul-de-sac. Dean rolls his eyes, putting an arm around Lisa’s shoulders to keep her close as they approach the front door.

The music is loud and thumping, the kind of shit that makes Dean clench his teeth and and all the muscles in his arms go tight. Lisa bounces a little, as if she recognizes the song, but she stays tight against Dean’s side as they push through the crowd.

“D’you wanna drink?” Dean yells over his shoulder. He’s sweating, a little short of breath, because there are too many people here and most of them are already drunk, and he doesn’t want to leave Lisa alone and unprotected but at the same time, he’s not going to make it through this without a drink or five. This is his third party since his fight with Cas. He’s gotten into the routine now.

Lisa bites her lower lip and nods quickly. Dean takes her hand and tugs her along until they find the refreshments set up in the kitchen. Dean huffs slightly; some Jack Daniels, a few flavors of Smirnoff, a little Captain Morgan, and a shit-ton of store-brand soda. “Big spender,” Dean remarks under his breath before turning to Lisa. “You don’t have to drink booze if you don’t wanna.”

Lisa hesitates. “Well. I never have before,” she says, forcing a smile. “Gotta live a little, right?” She glances over her shoulder, then takes one of the red plastic cups off the table, pouring a small amount of rum in the bottom before reaching for the cola. “Your boss lets you drink?”

Dean chuckles, turning away from her and taking his own cup, choosing straight whisky for himself. “Encourages it,” he answers with a sigh. “And he’s not exactly my boss, y’know? He’s just…” Dean pauses, struggling the find the right description for Alastair, something that won’t frighten Lisa. “Trying to turn a profit,” he settles on, before taking a long drink.

Lisa watches him closely. “So… he buys the liquor for these parties?”

“At least.” Dean empties his cup, then pours a little more, ignoring the way Lisa’s eyebrows lift. “Depends on how much they pay, but sometimes he provides food, entertainment, even a location.” When he first got involved in this endeavour, it was just buying the liquor and selling it for a higher price to kids too young to get it on their own. Then it evolved, as Alastair came up with new ideas and new prices and found new kids to sell to. Having Dean fight some wasted teenager and charging other wasted teenagers to watch, that’s just the newest product on the line.

Dean downs another cup. Pours another cup. Lisa hasn’t even touched hers yet.

It goes on like that for a while. Lisa sipping at her first cup, eyes on Dean as he downs drink after drink. The music only gets louder, the white noise of yelled conversations fading beneath a bass beat. A flurry of random faces, kids from school, recent graduates, not-so-recent graduates back for the summer, and at one point Dean recognizes Victor in the crowd, yells at him to come over. But Victor is closer to Lisa, who’s still sitting with her legs crossed and her arms tucked in and her cup half-full, and they’re both watching Dean with worried eyes.

“Maybe you should sit down, Dean,” Victor says, and his hand is on Dean’s shoulder, carefully guiding him back, but Dean stumbles out of his grip, falling back into a crowd. Next thing he knows, somebody is shoving him, Victor is yelling at everyone to take it easy, and everything is too loud, too close, too intense, and Dean’s fist flies out and connects with someone’s jaw. Somebody else grabs him from behind, probably Victor, but Dean scrambles free and attacks again, kicking and punching and growling. Space clears out around them, enough that Dean can breathe, because this feels _good_. His knuckles connecting with some stranger’s cheekbone, leaving bruises and drawing blood, it’s such a _relief_ , because Dean can feel like he’s in control for once. Like he’s strong. Like he doesn’t have to hold back his anger at Cas, at his Dad, his confusion about Lisa, his deeply-buried resentment towards...

The kid is crying now, blubbering incoherently, and when another hand carefully grips Dean’s shoulder and pulls him back, Dean goes. Because this time, it’s Alastair, and he’s smiling that weird closed-lip smile, patting Dean on the back and telling the crowd that if they enjoyed that show, they should come to the next party and see it again.

Dean’s still drunk, but his head feels clearer as he finally takes that seat Victor was offering him, and he smiles crookedly at Victor and Lisa.

But they don’t smile back.

Lisa’s eyes are wide and horrified, her mouth hidden by her hand. Victor is seated next to her, maybe a little too close, but Dean can’t make himself get worked up about that. He’s too zen after that fight. “What?” he says instead, leaning in to Lisa’s neck. She stands before he gets there and runs her hands through her hair.

“I can’t believe you just…” she mutters, and Dean’s surprised he can hear her so well. What happened to all that noise? “He was… and you… and he was _crying_ and you’ve got blood on your hands and…” She rubs both hands over her face, then shakes her head. “I can’t do this, Dean. I wanna go home. This isn’t me and I don’t want this to be you.”

Dean frowns and furrows his brow. “Can’t,” he says, and when her face falls, he clarifies, “ _I_ can’t. _You_ do whatever you want.”

Lisa bites her lip and turns to Victor, who nods and stands up. “I’ll take you home,” he says, and Dean must give something away, straightening up or making a noise, because Victor holds a placating hand up and says to him, “It’s late, I’ll just make sure she gets home. Don’t be like that. It’s not like that.”

Dean feels like his legs aren’t working, but he continues frowning as Victor takes Lisa’s elbow and leads her back out to the front room.

“Well, that was fun.”

Dean turns and scowls as Bela enters the room, a sway in her hips and a smirk on her lips as she stares him down. “Don’t mind me, love,” she says, taking the seat Victor vacated. “I’m just enjoying the show. ‘Dean Winchester Loses All His Friends,’ truly a great tragedy.” She giggles and takes a sip of her drink. “I’m a big believer in schadenfreude, y’know.”

“That so,” Dean slurs, leaning closer to her, practically growling. “You bring Cas?”

“No,” Bela says primly, shaking hair off her shoulders. “I invited him, and he said no. I mentioned you might be here, and he still said no.” She grins again. “He told me you two had a row, after all. I was trying to help.”

Dean blinks at her, then sighs, all his aggression flowing out of him as he stares at her. She’s gorgeous and rich, and her family is full of opportunities and connections. Of course Cas would want to date her. His family must love her. “You two are dating, then?”

Bela turns and stares at him before laughing aloud. “Are you joking?” When Dean just furrows his brow, she laughs again. “Please. We’re just friends.”

“Then why’d he wanna take you on a date?” Dean spits. Bela wrinkles her nose.

“Is that what this is about? Darling, why would it make you so angry that Cas wants to date me?” She flutters her eyelashes at him, leans into his space with a coy smile. Dean sits up straight, kicking his chair back to put more space between them.

“Because you’re a bitch!” he snarls. “Because you’ll use him up and leave him dry, and he deserves better than that!”

Bela raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lip twitching up. “He’s a big boy, Dean, he can take care of himself. You, on the other hand?” Her eyes flick over him, and she wrinkles her nose again. “You need help.”

“Fuck you,” Dean snaps, but it’s weak. Because he’s weak. Because she’s not wrong. The memory of Cas coming to pick him up in Seaside flickers through Dean’s brain, and his hand is already pulling out his phone before he thinks of doing so. It’s only when Bela smiles that he stops himself.

But her smile isn’t flirtatious or amused. There’s a kindness in it that Dean isn’t used to, so he tilts his head and meets her gaze. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

Bela sighs and reaches over to put a hand on Dean’s knee. The touch is light, intended to keep his attention and comfort him, which again strikes Dean as odd. “Can I offer a bit of free advice?” Bela asks, then continues without waiting for Dean to respond: “Call Cas. You’re treating him like shit, and he deserves better than that.”

Dean cringes at his own words being thrown back in his face. She’s right. Cas deserves to be surrounded by people who will listen to him and make him laugh and keep him happy. He doesn’t deserve Dean and his baggage and his shitty attitude.

“Why’re you doin’ this?” Dean asks, surprised by the rough tone of his voice. Bela shrugs and stands up.

“Cas and I became very close over the school year,” she says. “Emails and phone calls. Lots of late night sharing time.” She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t particularly care about you, but you’re important to Cas, and he’s important to me. So.” She smiles cheekily and tilts her hips, spreading her hands out and wiggling her fingers. “Here we are!”

Dean takes a deep breath. “You’d do this but you don’t wanna date him?”

Bela huffs. “No. I’m not allowed to actually be friends with a boy and not want to fuck him or date him? That’s a particularly rank kind of bullshit coming from you, darling.”

And again, she’s right. Dean is friends with Charlie and Jo and Pam, and none of them have ever expressed a desire to date him. Sure, Pam flirts with him a lot, but she flirts with everyone a lot. Dean leans back in his chair and groans, running a hand over his face. “I’m too drunk for this shit.”

“Then think about it,” Bela responds, patting his shoulder. “See you around, Dean.”

And she’s gone, and the white noise of conversation returns at a volume high enough to make Dean’s temples throb. He’s such a fuck-up. Why is he such a fuck-up? He treats Cas like shit, he treats Lisa like shit… no wonder Lisa went off with Victor. At this rate, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Cas went off to wherever his dad is and never came back. Wouldn’t blame him, either.

“Too fucking drunk for this,” Dean mumbles to himself, and stumbles off to find a place to lie down.

 

**June 27th, 2006**

 

“Hello?”

Cas’s voice is soft and scratchy, weighted down with sleep, and Dean tightens his grip on the steering wheel, hating the way it spreads over his shoulders like a security blanket. Tension starts to eke out of his muscles, and he takes a deep breath, but says nothing.

“Hello?” Still soft, but brighter now. More aware. Dean’s breath comes short now, as he tries to get himself under control, just enough to say something, but all that comes out are quick, soft breaths, just this side of being a sob. God, he’s a mess. He probably shouldn’t even be driving, but he just… he just has to see Cas right now.

“Dean?” Cas whispers. “Dean, is that you? It’s been _days_ , what are you-”

“Can I come over?” Dean finally manages to spit out, just as he turns off the interstate into the resort’s parking lot. “I fucked up, I know, just… please.”

Cas is quiet. Dean pulls into a parking spot and rubs a hand over his face, trying to calm his breathing, trying to get the thrumming in his veins under control. He’s not drunk enough for this, he’s not drunk at all, and maybe that’s why everything that happened tonight went down the way it did. Dean just can’t stop fucking up, can he?

“Dean.”

“Cas, _please_.” Dean takes a shaky breath. “I’m already here, so.”

Cas hesitates. “Are you drunk?”

A laugh makes its way out of Dean’s mouth, but it doesn’t sound anywhere near joyful. “Nah. Turns out I don’t need booze to be a wreck.”

There’s noise on the other end, fabric rustling, doors closing, Cas swearing softly. “The elevator code is 6776. We’re in room 1268, meet me there.”

And fuck, isn’t that just more proof that Dean doesn’t deserve to be around someone like Cas? He yelled at the poor guy over some stupid chick, for no reason, then ignored him for over a week, and still. _Still_. If Dean calls in distress, Cas is ready and willing to be there. “Fuck,” Dean chokes out, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. “Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry. You’re too good for me, I’m sorry, I’m gonna go home.”

He’s already twisting the key in the ignition when Cas makes a quiet, frustrated noise and swears, “Dammit, Dean, don’t play this game with me. Just get up here and we’ll talk, okay? You’re already here, right? Why waste the gas in your piece of shit truck?”

This time, Dean’s laugh actually sounds real, and he manages to keep his smile on as he says, “Shut the fuck up, at least I have a car.”

“Well, then, you’re just so much cooler than me,” Cas deadpans. “Get your ass up here.”

Dean pauses, then pulls the keys out of the ignition with a sigh. “Okay. See you in a few.”

However much of a relief it was to hear Cas’s voice, it’s even more of one to actually see Cas’s face. A quiet, distant part of Dean notes this as strange, starts to wonder if it shouldn’t be Lisa who brings this kind of comfort, but Dean quickly wraps himself up in the warmth and peace that comes with blue eyes and gentle hands, and the worry disappears. Instead, Dean smiles weakly and ruffles Cas’s hair when he gets close enough to touch.

“You couldn’t make it easy on me and stay in the bungalows again, could you?” he teases, his voice rough enough to make Cas’s eyes flicker with concern. “That lady downstairs was watchin’ me like a hawk.”

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Cas says slowly, giving Dean a once-over before gripping his shoulder and leading him further down the hallway.

“Nah. Just a bad night.” Dean’s breath hitches, but he manages to smile again as he takes in Cas’s pajamas. An old white t-shirt, and sweatpants he must have outgrown only recently, since they show a decent amount of ankle. Dean’s never seen Cas this dressed down, barefoot and bedhead, and he’s flooded with affection for his friend. It soothes him like a balm at the same time it ignites the guilt all over again, and he grips at Cas’s t-shirt, tugging to get his attention. “Cas. Cas, I wanna apologize.”

“Don’t,” Cas says shortly, turning a corner, dragging Dean behind him. “I’m on vacation, I can sleep when I want.”

“No, not for… well,” Dean swallows. “Yes, for this, but also for what happened last week.”

Cas slows to a stop, then turns to look at Dean. There’s surprise on his face, and his fingers dig into Dean’s bicep. “You don’t have to,” he says, refusing to meet Dean’s gaze. Dean shakes his head, lifting his hand to Cas’s shoulder.

“No, I do. I don’t like Bela, but that doesn’t mean I get to act like a shithead if you wanna be friends with her. Or,” Dean swallows, staring at his shoes. “Or more than that.”

“I don’t want to be more than friends with her,” Cas says quickly, releasing his grip on Dean’s arm and running his hand through his hair. “I swear, I just… wanted to hang out without being a third wheel.”

Dean lifts his head and blinks at Cas, who stares down at his own hands, picking at a fingernail. Now Dean really does feel like an asshole. “Man, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Cas says firmly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. “I should’ve been clearer in my intentions.”

The air seems to crackle between them as Dean stays locked in Cas’s stare. All those different shades of blue, both fierce and soft, and it’s all intent on Dean. It only breaks when Dean’s eyes flicker down to Cas’s lips, and he realizes just how close they’re standing, and Dean takes a deep breath before whispering, “A girl almost died tonight.”

Cas furrows his brows, squinting in confusion. “What?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Dean continues, his voice dropped below a whisper. Now that he’s said it, all the comfort that came from Cas’s presence drops away, and his hands start shaking again, his heartbeat a rising tempo. “I just wanted…” He trails off, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. Cas reaches over to grip his wrist and tug, gently.

“Let’s go to the roof. Okay?” Cas tugs on Dean’s wrist again, a small smile on his face. “We can talk there.”

Dean hesitates, but follows when Cas tugs again.

They slip through a door marked ‘Employees Only,’ then up a flight of steps to another door, marked ‘No Entry.’ Cas rattles the doorknob and forces the door open, blacktop spreading out under his feet as he leads the way out onto the roof. The wind whips furiously at their ears, bringing with it the smell of salt and sand, and Dean finds himself drawn to the ledge. He can see the tiny lights of Sileas from here, just down the hill, and the ocean goes on forever, black as the sky above. There’s too many lights at the pool and tennis courts just below them to see stars up above, but Dean looks up anyway, to watch clouds move across the sky.

“Gabe showed me how to get up here,” Cas says quietly, following Dean’s gaze. “I don’t even know how he figured it out, but I’m glad he did.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. He feels free up here, far away from all his problems, and he’s able to swallow most his fears as he turns to Cas. “I was at a party tonight.”

Cas nods, moving to sit on the blacktop. “I figured,” he says as Dean copies him, sitting close enough that their knees touch. “Bela mentioned seeing you a lot lately.”

Dean fidgets with his hands in his lap, staring at them. “Yeah. I fought with you, and then I fought with Lisa, and I just… everything went wrong, and I didn’t know what to do.” He runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “I’d go to parties and get drunk and beat people up and for a few moments it all seemed clear and fine, but then it’d go away, and I’d remember how I fucked things up. So I went to more parties, drank some more, fought some more. And tonight… the guy had an above-ground pool, y’know? You don’t know,” Dean shakes his head, chuckling humorlessly as he glances up at Cas, who simply looks back at him, his face a blank mask. “That’s a poor people thing, isn’t it? Anyway, a girl got too drunk and fell in. Another guy was drunk and held her down as a game. My friend Victor was there, he stepped in to pull her out and get her breathing again. But for a minute there…” Dean runs his hands through his hair once again, leaving it a mess, but his eyes are stinging, and there’s so much going through his head that it’s hard to separate one thought from another. “I thought she was going to die. And it would be partially my fault.”

Cas’s hand is on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough that it hurts, and Dean actually looks up at him, confused when he sees narrowed blue eyes and a tight jaw. "It's not your fault, Dean," Cas says, and he looks so sincere that Dean almost believes him for a moment. Then, he remembers the role he's played in Alastair's business. Yes, Alastair is the leader, the head of operations. He convinces potential customers to buy from him, has expanded to helping them find locations and food and entertainment... but Dean is the muscle. The one who enforces the rules and punishes kids who can't keep up with Alastair's demands. And now, Dean is part of the advertised entertainment - pay a little cash, watch the wild boy kick somebody's ass. If anyone gets hurt, it's because of Dean. Because Dean can't control himself. Because-

"Dean, stop it." Cas shakes Dean's shoulder, then shifts onto his knees, putting his other hand on Dean's other shoulder and pulling him closer. "Dean, that girl is just fine, and none of this is your fault."

"But it is, isn't it?" Dean chokes out, embarrassed by the tremble in his voice. "I agreed to do this, didn't I? To hurt people? And Cas, sometimes I _like_ it. That's fucking sick, right?" Dean laughs softly, shaking his head. Cas's eyes are taking over his vision, soft and blue and comforting, and Dean closes his own eyes to get away from it. "Cas, I'm fucked up."

"No."

"Dammit, Cas, I appreciate the support," Dean laughs again, smiling crookedly. "But I don't really deserve it."

"Dean, shut the fuck up." And Cas pulls Dean in, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders and hugging him tight. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and breathes Cas in, and Cas smells so _normal_. Soap and laundry detergent and just a hint of peppermint. Dean hugs him back, clinging to his t-shirt, and lets that smell calm him.  
"You were trying to protect your brother," Cas murmurs, shifting his hands, flattening his palms against Dean's back. "And your friends. You are noble and loyal and good, and someone took advantage of that, tried to twist it into something bad."

Dean listens, but the words don't sink in. "Didn't you hear the part where I like it?" Dean mumbles into Cas's shoulder. "Cas, lately it's felt like I can't get through the night without throwing a few punches." Reluctantly, he sits up, out of Cas's embrace, and stares out at the sky. "You can say that shit all you want, but I'm still fucking twisted. I'm still fucked up."

Cas sighs and shakes his head. "Dean, I don't care about that."

That's a surprise. Dean blinks at him, frowning. "Lisa does."

"Does Lisa understand the whole situation?"

Lisa knows that Dean works for Alastair. She knows that he's hired muscle and it gets him access to parties and other perks. She doesn't know that Dean got into it to protect his brother and the people he cares about.

Dean's silence seems to spell this out for Cas, who sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you so ashamed of your motives, Dean?" And, as if a dam has burst, Cas rubs his eyes and continues, "Why are you like this at all? 'I'm the man of the house,' you say. 'I have to take care of Sam. I have to pay for groceries.' Dean," and Cas's eyes are wide and glassy, his voice cracking as he says, " _None_ of that is your responsibility. You're _sixteen_. Didn't we discuss this before?"

"Yeah," Dean grunts. When he doesn't continue, Cas rolls his eyes.

"Dean, it's admirable that you want to take all of this responsibility on your own shoulders. I mean that. You're just..." Cas trails off for a moment, biting his lower lip, then closes his eyes. His voice is softer when he continues: "You're the best person I know. You're an inspiration. But at the same time, you deserve so much more. Don't," Cas takes a short breath, tilting his head. "Don't you _want_ more?"

Dean meets his eyes, trying to decide if Cas is serious, or just trying to make him feel better. He knows, in the back of his mind, that it's stupid to wonder - Cas isn't the type to lie, especially not to spare someone's feelings. But he can't help himself. How can someone like Cas see anything of worth in someone like Dean?

"I want to paint," Dean whispers without thinking. Cas leans forward, squinting slightly.

"Paint?"

"Yeah." Dean clears his throat, sitting up straight and fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. "I. I want to take art classes and learn how to paint. Maybe pottery too." He swallows, still staring at his lap. "My anatomy needs work. And clothes, I can't draw dresses. I want..." Dean sighs, lifting his head to look at Cas. "This is what I want. To be an artist. Whatever that means, it's what I want. But I can't have it."

 

  
(artwork by [adorabucky](http://adorabucky.tumblr.com))

 

Cas leans over and puts a hand on the back of Dean's neck. The touch is warm and soothing, and if Dean forgets to breathe for two seconds, when Cas's thumb brushes his hairline, then no one needs to know. "You can have anything you want, Dean," Cas says slowly, carefully. "You're clever and capable and talented. I," he swallows, "I'll help you, if you need me to."

"I don't need your money-" but Dean's cut off when Cas's other hand falls over his mouth. Goosebumps pop up on his skin as he breathes through his nose, smells the soap on Cas's hand.

"I mean, I'll help you find art classes. Help you get out of Alastair's business. Whatever you need, you can ask me, and I'll do everything I can to make it happen."  
Cas lowers his hand, and he just looks so earnest. So concerned. His other hand is still pressed up against Dean's neck, and Dean realizes that just having someone to talk to, someone who will listen, and who is willing to help... just sitting here on this roof, telling Cas about the wishes he has trouble even admitting to himself, Dean feels better. Lighter, somehow. And he smiles before leaning over and gently pressing his lips against Cas's.

Like last year, Cas freezes. His hand grips the back of Dean's neck, but otherwise, he doesn't move. Part of Dean's brain is screaming at him, wanting to know what the _fuck_ he's doing and why he would even _think_ of doing this again, but in dredging up those deeply buried dreams and laying them out for Cas to see, Dean found the same deeply buried curiosity that had driven him to try this last year.

And it's so strange that Cas pulls away and stares at him, eyes round like the moon, like he doesn't feel anything except surprise. Because again, just like last year, electricity shoots through Dean, from his lips to the tips of his fingers, leaving them numb. So Dean smiles, and Cas raises his eyebrows, lips parted.

"Lisa?" he finally manages to say. Dean blinks a few times, then laughs softly.

"No homo, remember?" he says. "You’re a dude. Doesn't count."

Something flickers over Cas's face, but Dean hardly notices as he commits that kiss to memory, then tucks it away in the back of his mind, right next to last year's kiss, where he can forget about it and pretend it never happened, until he's ready to deal with the fact that he _wants_ to kiss his best friend, and likes doing so.

Because who needs that drama when Dean has so much else going on?

Cas clears his throat and starts to stand, brushing dirt off his sweatpants. Dean quickly follows, still smiling to himself. “So, are you okay?” Cas asks quietly, staring down at his hands as he fidgets with his fingernails.

Dean takes a deep breath, and one last look at Sileas off in the distance. His head feels clear for the first time in ages, and he didn’t even have to resort to violence to get there. “I’m good,” Dean says. “You?”

Cas lifts his head and smirks. “This wasn’t about me.”

“Nah, I fucked up though.” Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks at a stray pebble. “With the whole Bela thing. I don’t want you to still be mad at me about that.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You’ve already apologized _multiple_ times, so you can shut the fuck up about it or I really will be mad.” Dean laughs and follows as Cas heads back to the door. “Do you want to stay over?”

Dean blinks in surprise. “Am I allowed to?” he asks, when Cas manages to shake the door open again.

“Sure. Mother’s back on tour with Uncle Zach, and Michael’s in Portland for the week. It’s just Gabe, Anna, and me.” When they reach the second door, back on the twelfth floor, Cas turns and grins at him, toothy and pleased. “We can order breakfast and watch a movie in the morning.”

Dean laughs again. “A porno?”

“Only if it comes up confidential on the bill.”

“Jesus,” Dean chuckles, pushing past Cas and back out into the hallway. “I fucking missed you, man.”

Cas’s smile softens into something content, and he swings an arm around Dean’s shoulder as they head back to the room. If just for this moment, Dean feels confident that no matter what else happens in his life, at least he’ll always have Cas. And that’s better than nothing.

 

**June 28th, 2006**

 

The suite is so nice that even after sleeping on the couch in his jeans, Dean still feels great.

Gabe orders a breakfast of waffles and bacon, and Anna spends the whole meal staring at Dean like he’s Harry Potter and she’s his Ginny, but Cas kicks his siblings out after they eat, and he and Dean take over the main bedroom. Cas jokes about ordering _Brokeback Mountain_ , but Dean kicks him and steals the remote to pick _Aeon Flux_ instead.

And Dean feels great.

Up until about halfway through the movie.

Cas is spread out next to him on the bed, still in his pajamas, and he carefully nudges Dean with his foot before asking, “What are you gonna do about Lisa?”

Dean glances at him. “What do you mean?”

“Are you breaking up with her?”

“No,” Dean says quickly, sitting up. “I mean, I don’t want to break up with her, but y’know, she’s the one who saw me lose it on some random partygoer, so the ball’s in her court.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You’re such a chickenshit. I’ve only met her once, but I’m pretty sure when a girl wants to break up with a guy, she just does it. So you need to call her, before she gets fed up and calls you.”

Dean frowns. Cas has never dated anybody, and he’s only ever kissed two people in his life, one of which is Dean himself. So what the hell does Cas know about it?

But at the same time, he’s right. The longer Dean waits, the less chance he has of convincing Lisa to keep trying.

“I don’t know what to say,” Dean whispers. “She walked out after I fought that guy. What do I tell her?”

Cas stares up at him for a moment, then sits up and stretches past Dean towards the nightstand, where he finds a notepad and a pen. “I’ll write some ideas down for you. Okay?”

Dean tilts his head as Cas scoots so that his back is resting against the headboard, the notepad braced against his thighs. After a moment of watching Cas scribble and frown, clearly taking this seriously, Dean chuckles to himself and collapses back on the bed, his head pressed up against Cas’s side.

A few minutes later, Cas rips the sheet from the pad, folds it into quarters, and drops it on Dean’s chest before settling down next to him, their heads tilted towards each other. “Don’t read it until you get home. Okay?” Cas mumbles. Dean picks up the little square, smiling to himself.

“Did you write me a love letter, Cas?” He teases, grunting when Cas’s knuckles slam into his stomach. “All right, all right, you don’t wanna deal with anymore feelings, I gotcha.”

“You’re such an ass,” Cas grumbles, but when Dean glances over, there’s a tiny, satisfied smile on Cas’s face. The sunlight pours in through the window, golden like honey, and Cas’s eyes look somehow darker, soft shadows highlighting all of his best features.

Then Cas’s eyes flicker towards Dean’s, and Dean turns his attention back to the movie, determined to ignore the itch in his hands, the desire to draw his friend in this light, just like this. A question pushes to the forefront of Dean’s brain: _why do you want to draw Cas more than Lisa?_ , and Dean quickly shoves it back where it came from, the same place where he keeps his memories of kissing Cas. Now’s not the time.

Because Dean’s happy here. Just like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the rating and tags will more than likely change with the next chapter so keep an eye on it!
> 
> i'm currently signed up for dcbb with a completely different fic. i plan on working on both young volcanoes and the dcbb at the same time, but that still means i can't give an estimate as to when the next chapter will go up. it should be shorter than this one, so hopefully not another two months, but again, i'm working on the dcbb too. as always, you can follow [my tumblr](http://someoneworthfinding.tumblr.com) and [this tag](http://someoneworthfinding.tumblr.com/tagged/beachverse) for regular updates! and, if you like what you're reading, please send a message/leave a review, or rec it! i write much faster when i know i have an audience, and the bigger the audience, the faster i'll work! thanks for sticking with me and being so patient!


	3. Once Upon A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The rating and tags have changed! PLEASE double-check them before you start reading!**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> For spoiler warnings/specifics about the new tags, please [click here](http://vintagenoise.co.vu/part2ch3spoilers) :)

_Let’s rearrange_  
 _I wish you were a stranger I could disengage_  
 _Just say that we agree and then never change_  
 _Soften a bit until we all just get along_  
\- **Over My Head (Cable Car)** , The Fray

 

**July 1st, 2006**

“So what were you and Cas fighting about again?” Charlie asks, staring intently at the cards in her hands. Dean eyes her carefully, looking for any twitch of her eyebrow or lips, then returns to his own cards.

“Do you remember his friend Bela? She came to Jo’s birthday party last year,” Dean says distractedly, pulling two cards from his hand and taking another two, then trying to hide his disappointment when he realizes he’s stuck with his three jacks.

“Oh, I liked her!” Charlie says, smiling brightly as she exchanges one card for another. “She and I emailed a few times while she was at school.”

“Really?” Dean groans, leaning back in his chair. “You too?”

“What, you don’t like her? Straight,” she grins cheekily, laying out her cards on the table, and Dean curses, throwing his own hand at her head.

“Fuck, you’re not even straight, what the fuck,” he complains as she giggles and picks his cards up off the floor.

“Stop your whining, what did you even have?”

“Three of a kind.”

“Ha ha.” Charlie beams at him as he sticks his tongue out at her. “What does Bela have to do with your fight?”

Dean sighs softly, taking the cards back and starting to shuffle them again. How does he explain how angry he was about the very idea of Cas dating Bela without opening himself up to weird questions? Questions that he doesn’t know the answers to? Now that he’s a couple weeks removed from that phone call and those emotions, Dean’s even more confused about the intense anger he felt. And that’s not even considering that weird note Cas had given him to help out with Lisa. It had worked, of course, all those little turns of phrase like, _Now that I have you, I can’t imagine life without you_ , or _You’re changing me, slowly, into something better, somebody I like_. Lisa had forgiven Dean instantly, and had even taken him out to their spot at the top of the hill and let Dean put his head between her thighs and get her off for the first time. Dean would never admit this to anyone, but hearing the soft, delighted noises Lisa made and seeing the way she smiled sleepily at him afterwards, was far better than her attempting to return the favor. And not because she was bad at it, either.

And yet, Dean only knows this, only got to do this, because of Cas. And those words he read to Lisa, the words that Cas wrote, Dean meant them, he’s sure of it, but there’s still something itching in the back of his brain. Guilt, maybe. And it’s not just towards Lisa, either, but he doesn’t understand why.

“He said something about dating Bela, and I was afraid she’d take advantage of him,” Dean answers quietly, unsure of how else to put it. “He didn’t like that much, and it turns out he’s not actually interested in her, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Charlie furrows her brow, laughing softly. “Bela wouldn’t do that to him,” she says, and Dean can feel her eyes on him even as he focuses on the cards in his hands. “I don’t know if she likes him or just likes him, but the few times we talked about him over e-mail, I dunno…” The corners of Charlie’s lips quirk up, just briefly. “She’s fond of him, I guess. And a little protective, maybe.”

Anger stirs in Dean’s chest, and it tastes a little like jealousy too, but Dean clears his throat and ignores it. “Why were _you_ e-mailing Bela, hm?” Dean manages a saucy grin, wiggling his eyebrows until Charlie rolls her eyes and steals the deck of cards from his hands.

“It’s not like that,” Charlie says flatly. “I like somebody else.”

She recognizes her mistake almost instantly, clapping a hand over her mouth before she even notices the stupid, open-mouthed smile on Dean’s face, before he even gets the chance to grab her shoulders and shake her and demand she share this information with him.

Dean finally lets go and sits back down when Charlie starts kicking at his shins, and she pouts at him when he rests his chin in one hand and invitingly waves a hand for her to continue. “I don’t know why you’re so excited about this,” she mutters, setting the deck of cards aside and crossing her arms on the table. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Oh please,” Dean scoffs. “I’ve done the crush conversation with Jo and Pam and Garth, but I’ve never gotten to do it with you, so come on.” Dean nudges her elbow and wiggles his eyebrows again. “Spill.”

Charlie sighs, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Fine! I was thinking I’d have to tell you anyway, because of her birthday party coming up soon, and I was hoping you’d-”

“It’s Jo?” And Dean manages to suppress a wince, but he still reaches over to gently grip Charlie’s forearm, unsure of what to say. Jo is a year and a half younger than they are, and while Dean thinks he might like to see her with Charlie, that they could make each other happy, he also knows that Jo has never shown an interest in girls. At least not to him, anyway. She’d had a crush on Dean when they were younger, but outgrew it while he still lived in Topeka; other, closer boys were much easier to fall for. Granted, Jo may just not have realized anything yet, or she may not feel comfortable talking to Dean about it, but Dean can’t shake the feeling that Charlie will only end up hurt.

Still, Charlie manages a weak smile, shrugging. “The heart wants what it wants,” she says, and Dean thinks that maybe she understands her chances are slim after all. “But I was hoping you would help me with something.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m planning a surprise party for Jo, since we were going to go to the midnight show for Pirates on her actual birthday.” Charlie bites her lower lip, lowering her head. “I’m inviting a ton of people, as many as I can get from her school and from ours, people who actually know her. And I’m putting some games together.” Charlie hesitates here, looking up at Dean from beneath her eyelashes, her shoulders tense. “One of them is a kissing game.”

Dean blinks, staring at the wall at he thinks about it. “And you want me to rig it so you can kiss Jo?” He can do that, probably. He’ll be exempt from the game because of Lisa anyway.

“Not just that.” Charlie sits up straight and fidgets in her chair, refusing to look directly at Dean. “And you can say no to this if you want to, I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

“What is it?”

Charlie takes a deep breath. “It’ll be weird, if Jo and I just kiss and we end up being the only same-sex people who do it. Plus, it’ll get so much attention from the boys that Jo might freak out and refuse.” Charlie fidgets some more, then stares at her lap. “I was hoping we could rig it so you could kiss a boy first.”

Images of Cas’s face flit through Dean’s head, all of them with wide eyes and parted lips. Dean feels heat climbing up his cheeks and ducks his head, anxiously tapping his fingers against the tabletop. “I don’t know about that,” Dean mumbles, because it’s one thing to want to kiss Cas, and another to actually do it once or twice, and then a wholly separate third thing to do it in front of other people. People who might take it the wrong way.

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be that guy, Dean,” she says, reaching over to put her hand on top of his, forcing his fingers to relax. “You’re straight. Fine. If you’re so straight that you have a gorgeous girlfriend you’re crazy about, why should it matter if you play a game where you’re forced to kiss, I dunno, Ash? Or Victor.” Charlie laughs, completely unaware of the way Dean’s brain has just shut off. “Victor might be the best idea, honestly, no one would question you then.”

But Dean doesn’t care about that. He can feel the heat all over his face, the tension in his shoulders, because it hadn’t even occurred to him that Cas might not be who Charlie had in mind. And she’s right, really; if Dean wants to avoid any drama or shit-talking, Victor would be the one to choose. Victor’s on the football team. He’s tall and broad and strong, and they’re friends because Dean is dating one of Victor’s closest friends. Everyone would laugh it off. No one would ask weird questions.

But.

“It’d be easier if it was someone I could explain the situation to,” Dean says before he can convince himself not to. “Someone who knows what’s up and would be willing to play along. Victor might refuse at the party, and then what?”

Charlie considers it, then nods slowly. “Good point.” She sways her head from side to side, then purses her lips. “I told Cas last week. Do you think he’d do it?”

Dean manages to keep himself from smiling.

**July 4th, 2006**

The Fourth of July is pretty much Dean’s favorite time of year, outside of the three months that encompass Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and Dean’s birthday. Independence Day is helped along by the rather large and rowdy festival that Sileas puts on, the kind of thing that draws in people from beyond Seaside and Astoria.

The kind of thing that makes it so there’s no need for Alastair’s kind of business, for at least one night.

So Dean is free, for now. His mother had actually gotten the day off too, and hosted a barbecue for all their friends, so Dean is full to bursting with happiness, having been surrounded by loved ones and good food all day long. Cas had even come, with his brother and sister following awkwardly behind, but it didn’t take long for Anna to find friends in Sam and Jo, nor for Gabe to amuse himself annoying Bobby and making Mary laugh.

Now, the sun is not-quite-set, bathing everything in orange and red and casting long shadows. Dean is leaning over the barrier in front of a rickety stage, Lisa on his left and Cas on his right, with everyone else crowded behind, trying to have a conversation over a terrible cover of “Barracuda.” Every once in a while, Jo or Charlie or Dean will pull themselves up on the barrier and scream “Freebird!” at the stage, only to earn a slew of drunken glares from the crowd and be ignored by the band. Still, they howl with laughter every time, and while Lisa and Cas don’t seem to get it, at least they’re smiling.

That’s really the best part, though Dean won’t admit it. His girlfriend and his best friend, stationed on either side, framing him with comfort and amusement and love. He couldn’t possibly be happier than he is right now.

Charlie appears between him and Cas, whispering in Cas’s ear, and Cas smiles and nods at her before waving his siblings over, giving Charlie the opportunity to whisper at them as well. When Dean catches Cas’s eye, Cas casually points at Jo, who is completely unaware of the entire thing, caught up in a conversation with Sam.

The song ends, and Dean takes the opportunity to immediately yell, “ _Freebird_!” over the scattered applause. The bass player flips him off before the band heads into an off-tempo cover of “Blitzkrieg Bop.” Satisfied, Dean nudges Cas’s shoulder. “You’re coming to Jo’s party then?”

Cas nods, smiling. “And to see _Dead Man’s Chest_ with you guys on Friday night.”

Dean forces himself not to look at Lisa, to keep his eyes on Cas. “Then I need to talk to you about something. In private.”

Cas does glance at Lisa, but it’s quick, and his eyes are back on Dean when he nods and pushes himself away from the barrier. When Dean starts to follow, Lisa turns to them, confused, but their departure is cut off by Charlie rushing forward and climbing halfway up the barrier to yell at the band, “ _Play Freebird already_!”

Jo is right behind her, accidentally jostling Lisa as she tries to keep from toppling over. “ _You suck_!” Jo screams, and Dean can’t resist. He grins at Cas, then cups his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice as he starts chanting, _Freebird, Freebird_ , over and over again. Jo and Charlie join in, and even though the crowd is still glaring at them, Sam and Gabriel pick up the chant as well. Soon, Lisa is the only one in their little corner not screaming at the top of her lungs, but she is laughing hysterically, all the more when Dean sneaks up behind her, picking her up and spinning her around in time with his chants.

Finally, Blitzkrieg Bop ends, and the singer glares at them before rolling her eyes and saying something to the bass player. He protests, but she turns her glare on him until he goes to the abandoned keyboard and starts to play a familiar set of chords. The singer turns back to her microphone and says, “This is to shut up the little S.O.B.s in the corner,” which only serves to make Jo, Dean, and Charlie scream in delight, pushing back from the barrier to create their own dance pit.

Lisa and Cas stand outside the circle, even as Sam and Gabe and Anna jump in. Lisa has a grin on her face, eyes bright as she watches her boyfriend sway like an idiot and sing along, off-key. Cas, however, looks confused, his brow furrowed.

“What was the point of this?” he yells as Dean approaches, still swinging his arms and hands around. Dean scoffs.

“Does there have to be a point?” Dean yells back, which just makes Cas roll his eyes and turn to Lisa for help. She laughs but shakes her head, holding her arms up.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t get it either,” she says.

The music starts to speed up then, beginning the change from ballad to rock anthem, and Dean reaches out to grab Cas’s wrist, to pull him into the circle. He ignores Cas’s yelp of protest and spins him under his arm, then laughs before wrapping his arms around Cas’s waist and swinging him around, forcing Charlie and Anna to leap out of the way. Cas struggles against Dean’s grip, but Dean holds tight, laughing into Cas’s shoulder as he tries to force him to dance, dragging him around until Cas finally gives in and starts dancing on his own, just as the guitar and drum kit really start to ramp up. Pleased, Dean turns to Lisa, but his grin quickly falls when he sees the look on her face.

She’s not smiling anymore, not amused by his antics. Her brow is furrowed and her eyes are wide, and when Dean approaches her, she takes a small step back. Perturbed, Dean gently takes her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Are you okay?” he asks, leaning in to ensure she can hear him over the music.

Lisa’s eyes dart towards the circle, but she forces a smile and nods quickly. “I think I’m just tired,” she says. “It’s been a long day. Is it okay if I go home?”

Dean pouts slightly, disappointed. The song is finally over, replaced by a cover of “I Want You to Want Me,” and the rest of his friends are still dancing. He had hoped to get Lisa in there too, spin her around so fast that the orange ribbon in her hair came loose. “Can I see you tomorrow? Before you go out of town?”

Lisa glances at Dean’s friends once again, and this time, Dean starts to follow her gaze, to see what exactly she’s looking at, but before he can, Lisa cups his face in her hands and brings him down for a kiss. She presses her body up against him, moves her fingers to gently grip his shirt, and Dean is so surprised by this sudden display of affection that he almost forgets to put his hands on her waist and draw her in closer. He remembers what she tastes like under her dress, that sour taste so different from the taste of her lips but just as addictive, and his dick gives an appreciative twitch in his jeans just before Lisa pulls away, a small smile on her face.

“I think I can make tomorrow work,” she says, ruffling Dean’s hair.

Dean grins stupidly, ignoring the catcalls that are coming from either Jo or Charlie; he can’t tell when his head is swimming like this. “What?”

Lisa grins outright, then turns back to the group, her hand on her hip. There’s something odd about her smile, and Dean manages to follow her gaze this time, but it’s just Jo, Charlie, and Cas on the end of it, and all three of them are smirking. Then, Cas grabs Jo and starts to twist his hips, effectively distracting her as she attempts to copy his moves without taking her eyes off his jeans. Dean blinks, then turns back to Lisa. “Tomorrow?” he asks again.

“Tomorrow,” she repeats, and it sounds like a promise.

**July 5th, 2006**

Dean never saw this coming.

It was just another date. Dinner at the Roadhouse, some ice cream, and a short make-out session on top of the hill. On any normal night, Dean would’ve had Lisa home by 11, and been asleep in his own bed by midnight. Even considering the fact that they’ve been inching toward this all summer, with Lisa getting bolder all the time, Dean never thought that tonight would lead to anything beyond getting his head under her skirt again. And he honestly wouldn’t have minded if that had been where the night ended. He wouldn’t have minded it ending with a little kiss on her front porch after dinner, either.

But damn, Dean’s just a sixteen year-old boy. And when a beautiful girl that he really cares about (and maybe _loves_ ) leans over and whispers in his ear that she wants to do it, slaps a condom in his hand, then runs around to crawl into the bed of his truck and starts taking off her clothes?

Well, what the hell is he supposed to do? Say no?

Honestly, he had kind of hoped that when this finally happened, it would be in his bed. And at first, as he crawls up beside her, he tries to talk her into waiting the five minutes it would take to drive down the hill and get to his house. Mary’s working tonight, after all.

But Sam will be there, and when Lisa points that out, she’s already wiggling out of her skirt, looking like a bronze goddess in her pale pink underwear (her bra matches her panties, Christ, how do girls come up with this shit that’s so cute and sexy at the same time?), and Dean is willing to agree to anything she says, just to ensure this actually happens.

When they’re both naked, they just sit and stare at one another for a while, taking it all in. Eventually, Lisa gets the giggles, and the ice is broken, and the next thing Dean knows, they’re kissing and touching, and sure it’s in the bed of his old, rusty truck, and anyone could come by at any moment and catch them, but none of that matters. Lisa is warm and soft and she smells like flowers and he could spend hours just touching her hair, but curfew is at midnight, so he forces himself to quit after just a few minutes.

Instead, he manhandles her until she’s leaning up against the back of the truck, spreads her legs, and dives in to enthusiastically eat her out, until her fingers clench in his hair and she moans softly and comes with his tongue still inside her. Lisa seems surprised by this, and when Dean sits up, she just looks at him in confusion until he smiles, and she smiles shyly back.

Dean is hard and he is close, and when she lays down on her back and lets him crawl between her legs, watches him fumble with the condom, he tries to warn her: he’s never done this before. This might suck. If it hurts she needs to tell him. It’ll probably only take a minute. And Lisa, God bless her, she just laughs and tells him everything will be okay, and maybe it means something that he believes her.

Lisa makes a soft noise when Dean enters her, but when he hesitates, she just smiles and tells him to go to town. He only lasts a few moments, and he can hear himself amplified the entire time, grunts and groans and it’s embarrassing really, and even more so when he comes and can’t even name the sound that wrenches its way out of his throat. Lisa laughs and strokes his hair as he comes down, and Dean rolls over, pulling her close, cradling her against his chest.

“I’m glad you were the first,” Dean says, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

Lisa lifts her head, blinking up at him, and for the first time in a long time, Dean feels the urge to draw her, to capture this expression on paper. She smiles and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Same,” she says softly. And something in the air shifts. But whatever it is that hangs between them, they don’t acknowledge it, choosing instead to curl up together for just a few more moments.

**July 6th, 2006**

The cineplex in Seaside is packed with teenagers and young adults, grabbing snacks and saving seats for their friends while they wait for the new _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movie to begin. As he surveys the theater, still filling up as the line slowly makes its way inside, Dean is grateful that his friends decided to get in line early. Their group is a little too large, and if they hadn’t been among the first ones inside, they might have had find separate seats.

Dean hasn’t told anyone about what happened last night. He figured it might take attention away from Jo, since this weekend is supposed to be about her birthday. Lisa’s not even here; she’s spending several days in San Francisco with her mother, so it’s not like she can tell him not to talk. Still, he fidgets in his seat, unable to wipe the grin off his face, to the point that Cas keeps frowning at him and kicking him in the shins.

Charlie crawls over Pam and Victor to kneel next to Dean, poking him in the thigh. “Have you talked to Cas yet?” she whispers, pointedly raising her eyebrows. Dean frowns, unsure of what she’s talking about until he remembers.

“Oh,” and it feels like years ago that he made that agreement with Charlie, even though he knows it’s only been a few days. But within those few days, Dean has finally lost his virginity, and now he’s a completely different person. At least, it feels that way. “No, not yet, but-”

“Talk to me about what?” Cas butts in, leaning against Dean’s shoulder, and it’s like being hit by a semi-truck, the way Dean suddenly remembers the kisses he and Cas have shared, and the way he tricked Charlie into suggesting one more. He had told Cas last time, the kiss didn’t count, but now his stomach rolls with guilt. He and Lisa took a huge step last night, the hugest one they can possibly make without exchanging the L-word and a couple rings, and Dean is here making plans to kiss someone else? His male best friend, no less?

But maybe that’s what makes it okay. Dean and Lisa are definitively established as a couple now. They’ve met each others’ parents, they’ve managed to befriend each others’ friends, and now they’re having sex. What’s one kiss compared to all that?

Briefly, Dean wonders why he’s working so hard to justify this, but quickly covers it up, excusing it with his love for Charlie and willingness to fulfill her dreams.

“Let’s go out into the hallway,” Dean suggests to Cas, and when Charlie starts to stand as well, he shoos her back to her seat and gently brushes Cas’s bicep to direct him out of the theater.

There are still tons of kids swarming about, creating enough white noise that Dean feels certain their conversation won’t be overheard. He leans against the wall, and Cas follows suit, staring at him with raised eyebrows. “Talk to me about what?” he repeats.

Dean hesitates, then manages to smile. “So Charlie’s told you about her, y’know…” He awkwardly waves a hand through the air, making Cas chuckle.

“That she’s interested in girls, yes,” Cas supplies. “What about it?”

Dean takes a deep breath before he leans closer to Cas and explains the plan: rig the game so Dean and Cas kiss, breaking the ice for Charlie to get the chance to kiss Jo. Once it’s all laid out, Cas chews on his lower lip and stares at his feet, shifting uncomfortably against the wall.

“I dunno about this,” he says softly.

Dean frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it kind of… _weird_ to set them up like that? Without Jo knowing? Not to mention…” Cas pauses, briefly meeting Dean’s eyes before turning his head away. “Other people might get hurt too.”

Dean furrows his brow. “You mean Lisa?”

Cas sighs, pushing away from the wall so he can put his hands on his hips. “We can start with Lisa,” he offers. “I know you said kissing me doesn’t count, but that was an accident.” Cas swallows. “Both times were accidents. This is an actual laid-out plan for us to lock lips in front of a crowd of people. You think Lisa won’t be upset about that?” Cas huffs, smirking slightly. “Not to mention I’m pretty sure Lisa doesn’t really like me.”

“Of course she likes you!” Dean snaps, offended on Lisa’s behalf. “What makes you think she doesn’t?”

Cas just keeps smirking at him. “Never mind,” he says, waving a hand in the air. “Don’t change the subject. She certainly wouldn’t like me much for kissing her boyfriend, would she?”

“It doesn’t count!” Dean sputters, surprised at his own annoyance, but not as surprised as he that Cas thinks both kisses were accidents. Dissecting that will have to wait until later. “You’re my best friend and a dude, and Lisa is the girl I gave my V-card to! You’re totally different things!”

Suddenly, even though there are still crowds of people surrounding them, it feels like the whole world has gone quiet, and Dean notices the way Cas’s features contort before he manages to get them under control, before he hides it all behind a wary smile. “You… you mean you slept with her?” Cas asks quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” and for some reason, Dean doesn’t feel as proud or as happy as he did ten minutes ago. “Last night.”

“Congratulations,” Cas drawls, finding something interesting in the dull gray wallpaper. “Guess that completely overrides a couple kisses between friends.”

“Yeah,” Dean says again, unsure of why he feels so fucking _guilty_ all of a sudden. “So. Will you do it?”

Cas purses his lips, then sighs. “Sure,” he says, shoulders stiff. Dean only just starts to feel relief when Cas clarifies, “I guess I can stomach it for Charlie.”

Dean frowns. Since when has Cas been _opposed_ to being kissed by Dean? Then it occurs to him: Cas has _always_ been opposed to it. Last year, Dean had stolen that kiss, then lied when Cas panicked, and this year, Cas had immediately been concerned for Lisa. He doesn’t care about kissing Dean.

Something aches in Dean’s chest, niggling in his brain, and by now he’s just really sick of not understanding what’s happening in his own head.

The crowd is starting to dissipate, and Dean guesses it’s close to midnight, so he gestures towards the door, allowing Cas to lead the way back into the theater. Dean sends Charlie a thumbs up as soon as he’s seated, and tries to ignore Cas’s sudden bout of texting.

Then he sees Bela’s name and can’t help scowling, leaning over Cas’s shoulder. He catches the words _kiss_ and _Charlie_ before Cas pulls the phone back towards his chest, and frowns at Dean. “Not your business,” he whispers.

“Why are you telling Bela?” Dean whispers back. “Does she know about Charlie?”

“She happened to be there when Charlie told me,” Cas answers. “And she’ll be at the party tomorrow-” He rolls his eyes when Dean dramatically attempts to shush him. “Fuck, Dean, Jo is all the way over there, she can’t hear me. And Charlie invited Bela, so I don’t really fucking care what your problem is, she’s going to be there and you’re going to have to deal with it.”

Dean tightens his jaw, but Cas just returns his glare until Dean finally submits, leaning back in his seat to wait for the lights to go down. Cas resumes texting, but keeps his phone in tighter, harder to see. The rest of the group are chatting amongst themselves, laughing and throwing popcorn and sharing candy, so Dean retreats into his own mind, to pull apart his memories of kissing Cas and try to figure out what had really happened, what Cas’s reactions had really meant.

Oddly enough, it just makes Dean miss Lisa.

**July 7th, 2006**

By the time Dean and Jo pull up to Charlie’s house, Dean is pretty sure that Jo’s figured out what’s waiting for her inside. She yells in delight anyway, when the lights come on and everyone starts singing the Happy Birthday song, then disappears to greet everyone. Dean chuckles to himself, and scans the crowd for Cas or Charlie, and finds Cas first, leaning against the wall with a red Solo cup in his hand.

Dean approaches him and nudges the cup gently. “You got booze in there, young man?” he teases. Cas rolls his eyes, which just makes Dean laugh.

“Not really my thing,” Cas says dryly. “It’s root beer.”

“He’s a pill, I know,” and Dean jumps when he notices Bela standing at Cas’s side, that ever-present red smirk on her face. “But this time it’s not his fault. Charlie didn’t want this to turn in to the kind of party that you and I are more used to.”

Dean tries to scowl at her, but it feels more like a pout, especially when Bela’s smirk stretches, and Cas rolls his eyes again, nudging his elbow against her.

“Don’t tease him,” Cas whispers, and Dean’s not sure how to react to that. Something flutters in his stomach and expands in his chest, to think about Cas being protective of him, but at the same time, Dean’s not used to that. _Dean_ is the protector. That’s how it works. It’s why he’s so wary of Bela, after all.

Still, Bela waves a hand and says, “Fine,” opting instead to rest her head on Cas’s shoulder. Cas just stares out across the crowd, as if having a snotty senator’s daughter be so friendly with him is something that happens every day.

Maybe it is.

The thought alone makes the flutters in Dean’s stomach curdle.

“I didn’t know Charlie would invite so many people,” Cas says, eyes darting from face to face. Dean shoves his annoyance away and leans against the wall on Cas’s other side, looking for familiar faces.

“I could introduce you,” he offers. Most of these people aren’t friends so much as classmates he’s friendly with, or kids he’s seen hanging around Jo at the Roadhouse after school. It’s enough to keep Cas from becoming a wallflower, but Cas just smiles slightly and shakes his head.

“It’s hard enough keeping up with you,” Cas says, and he turns to meet Dean’s eyes, his own crinkled by a smile. Dean stares at him for a moment before clearing his throat, jerking his gaze away and landing on Charlie, all the way across the room.

“How’d you manage to get out for two late nights in a row?” Dean asks. Cas laughs again.

“The usual. Mother’s still on tour with Uncle, and Michael is picking up the slack in her absence. After Independence Day, Gabe and Anna actually like you guys, so now the hardest part of getting away is convincing them not to come with me.”

Dean grins. “Jo would’ve been happy to have them, y’know.”

Cas shrugs, earning a soft protest from Bela. “I need a break sometimes. Besides, I don’t want them stealing you away from me.” He pauses to take a drink, and Dean peers at him, trying to figure out what that means.

“Aren’t you the one who told me that I don’t own you?” Dean says. When Cas turns to look at him, Dean smiles slightly, trying to convey that he’s only teasing, and Cas huffs.

“This is completely different,” he says, relaxing back against the wall and resting his head on top of Bela’s. “Anna’s already planning to become Mrs. Anael Winchester.” He smirks, eyeing Dean carefully. “I’m fairly positive that Balthazar has no interest in marrying me.”

“I beg to differ,” Bela mutters, grunting unattractively when Cas elbows her in the stomach. Dean frowns, suddenly flooded with hundreds of questions about Balthazar, but before he can get the chance to ask them, Charlie is whistling above the noise, drawing everyone’s attention towards her. She’s dressed up tonight, in a pale green dress over black leggings, her bright red hair pulled back in a thick braid. Briefly, Dean wonders what, exactly, Charlie is hoping will happen tonight, and worries that it will all blow up in her face.

Charlie announces that it’s time for games, and anyone who wants to play has to join her in the basement. Cas sighs, “That’s our cue,” and shakes Bela off his shoulder to follow Dean and Charlie downstairs.

It looks like most of the guests have opted to stay upstairs, where the food and music are, but it’s still a pretty good group. Dean knows Tracy, Zeke, and Tessa through Lisa’s circle of friends, and while they smile and wave at him, they still end up sitting on the other end of the circle, near Victor. Kevin and Kate are closer to Charlie, but Dean still sees them around town every once in a while. And everyone knows cheerful braceface Becky, though it’s hard to place her in a specific clique since she tends to talk to just about anyone who will listen. Usually about Buffy or Lord of the Rings or the Supernatural series. God forbid she find out who Cas’s father is, or Dean may never see Cas again.

Once everyone is settled, Charlie clears her throat and explains the rules of the game. Everyone is going to put their name in a hat, then Dean is going to pull two random names, and whichever names he pulls, those people have to kiss. Ash asks why there aren’t two hats, one for boys and one for girls, and Bela snaps at him, telling him there’s no challenge or entertainment in boys kissing girls. Charlie agrees, and says anyone who’s too chicken to take the risk is free to leave. A few people shift awkwardly, but no one gets up, and Dean exchanges a smile with Charlie as she passes out scraps of paper for people to write their names on.

Victor mutters something about this just being a complicated version of Spin the Bottle, and Charlie informs him that plastic doesn’t spin well, and there was no way she was going to be able to get a glass bottle with her parents chaperoning; it was hard enough to get them to leave the basement alone for an hour. Dean’s actually pretty impressed with how well she’s covered this. She winks when she hands Dean the hat, little strips of paper piled inside, then reclaims her seat next to Jo.

There’s tension in the room now, and it’s sweltering. Dean can actually feel his heartbeat speeding up as he reaches into the hat and pulls the first two names.

Zeke and Cas.

His heart stutters to a stop.

Two guys. That’s all Charlie wanted, to break the tension, and if Dean just announces these two names, then she’d probably let him off the hook.

But he doesn’t _want_ to be let off the hook. And he doesn’t want Cas to kiss _someone else_. Especially not someone like Zeke, because it’s not like Dean’s into dudes or anything, but Zeke is on the varsity team, tall and broad and handsome. And on top of that, as far as Dean can tell, he’s a genuinely good guy. Not to mention his family has a decent amount of money, and Dean knows how the Miltons are about money and status. He can’t compete with that.

Not that he wants to.

Dean clears his throat. “Zeke and Kate,” he says, dropping the names back in the hat and shaking it for good measure. Kate blushes bright pink and giggles shrilly when Zeke approaches her, taking her hand and kissing it gently before leaning in to press their lips together. Dean doesn’t really blame her; it’s charming and sweet, and Zeke has a great smile.

Again, not that he’s into dudes or anything.

He goes through a few more pairs, Becky and Victor, Bela and Ash, Zeke again with Pam, before taking a deep breath. The two slips of paper in his hand say _Tessa_ and _Tracy_ , but Dean exaggerates a wince before turning to Cas. “Cas and, uh…” He licks his lips when Cas meets his gaze. “Cas and me.”

Of course, there are groans and catcalls. This is what everyone has been waiting for, whether they knew it was going to happen or not. Victor pumps a fist in the air and exchanges a high five with Zeke, and Dean rolls his eyes at their celebration of his supposed misfortune. Ash and Garth just give him sympathetic looks.

Dean pushes his nervousness down, flashing a charming smile in Cas’s direction. “Let’s just get it over with,” he says, unsure of whether or not he’s acting. Cas spares a glance around the circle, and shrugs casually before leaning over and pecking a kiss to Dean’s lips. It’s less than their other kisses have been; Dean barely feels it, and while part of him is relieved by that, another part feels robbed.

Cas has only just sat back when Victor coughs, “Bullshit!” from the other side of the circle. Dean turns to glare at him, but Victor just shakes his head. “That wasn’t even a kiss, Winchester, what the hell!”

“You wanna watch gay porn, do it on your own time, Henriksen,” Dean shoots back, but Victor is just shaking his head.

“You can’t kiss him like you kiss your fucking grandma, it’s gotta be a _real kiss_ ,” Victor says. “Kiss him like you mean it.”

Cas’s eyes are wide, his cheeks slowly turning red as Dean argues, “I’m not contributing to your creepy fantasies.”

“This isn’t about _fantasies_ , I’m as straight as the next guy!” Victor insists. “It’s about _rules_ and _fairness_.”

Dean turns to Charlie, who actually looks a little surprised at this outburst. She catches Dean’s look and tries to intervene, “We don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable-”

Victor cuts her off by making a rude noise, pressing his palm to his mouth and blowing air against it. “They’re just being chickenshit. Like the whole town doesn’t already know Dean’s dating Lisa! Your sexuality and masculinity are perfectly safe, Winchester, just get it over with so we can move on!”

Charlie pouts, and can only shrug in defeat when the circle starts to chant, “Kiss him, kiss him!” She barely even tried, and now everyone is whipped up in Victor’s vehemence, so what can Dean do? He turns to Cas, slightly panicked, but he doesn’t even have time to say anything before Cas has cupped his face and dragged him in for another kiss.

This one is different. Cas is fumbling a little, his inexperience showing now that he’s finally kissing back, and Dean only just hears the roar of approval from his friends before it fades into white noise, as he gently grips Cas’s shoulders and takes control, tilting into the kiss to try and lead Cas into doing the same. Cas gives a little sigh when it all starts to fit together, and Dean’s dick twitches at the noise. Which is weird, because Dean is seriously and truly not into dudes, but that train of thought gets lost when Cas tries to run his tongue over the seam of Dean’s lips, and Dean makes his own little noise of surprise.

It’s sweet, actually. A few pecks here and there don’t really count in the long run, but Cas is trying so hard, and Dean has no idea why but it’s still nice. Maybe he’s just doing it for the sake of putting on a show. Either way, and Dean laughs against Cas’s lips as he thinks this, maybe some kissing lessons can be arranged. Just for Cas’s sake. If he keeps growing, keeps broadening out, stays athletic and kind and gorgeous (objectively, of course, but Dean’s not blind), he’ll want the chance to practice before he starts picking up girlfriends of his own. Dean would be happy to volunteer.

That’s when Dean realizes he’s starting to get hard, and jerks away with a gasp. The catcalls and cheering come back in a rush that’s almost deafening, and Cas is still staring at him, blue eyes wide, hands hanging uselessly in the air where Dean’s chin used to be. Dean stares back, purposely ignoring the shape and color of Cas’s lips, shoving away all those thoughts and ideas that came to him while they were pressed together. No kissing lessons. No little noises. No getting hard.

Cas swallows and turns back around, his expression suddenly blank and unaffected even as Bela leans over to whisper something in his ear. Dean tears his eyes away from that display to look at Victor, who is clapping his hands with something like respect in his gaze, and Dean doesn’t want to think about that either, so he turns to Charlie, who just smiles encouragingly, giving him a thumbs up.

Dean’s hands are shaking. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath before reaching back into the hat and pulling out two more slips of paper. This time, he doesn’t even register which names are actually written down before he announces, “Jo and Charlie.” Another cheer goes up, but this one is less gloating at someone else’s bad luck, and more excitement at their own good luck. Two pretty girls, one of whom is the birthday girl, locking lips in front of a crowd of teenage boys can only get one reaction.

But Dean’s pretty sure Charlie’s plan worked; after everyone had to push him to kiss Cas, he’s ensured that the spotlight stays on him. Even as Jo blushes pink, from her scalp to her neck, as Charlie smiles bashfully before leaning in to kiss her, the catcalling is friendly in nature. Victor snaps, “See that, Winchester? _That’s_ a fucking _kiss_ ,” which makes Jo laugh against Charlie’s mouth, jarring enough that Charlie pulls away.

Dean smirks when Charlie glances at him, then rolls his eyes for Victor’s sake. “Yeah, yeah, Victor, whatever you say,” he snarks back, making a rude gesture with his fist. Charlie smiles shyly, then leans over to whisper something into Jo’s ear, a friendly hand on her knee. Satisfied that everything has gone to plan, Dean turns to Cas, ready to shake hands and laugh the whole thing off.

But Cas is tied up in a heated, whispered conversation with Bela. She notices Dean’s attention, and quickly shakes her head at whatever Cas is saying before standing up, brushing dust off the back of her skirt. “You kids are playing a little too clean for my tastes,” she purrs as she leaves the circle to head back upstairs, boots clicking on the concrete staircase. Cas bites his lip as he watches her go, and Dean feels something hot and painful in his chest at the concern in Cas’s eyes.

He doesn’t understand, this raw, slow shattering, the anger that always appears whenever he notices Cas’s attraction or affection for Bela. When Cas’s eyes dart back to Dean, Dean turns away, aggressively shaking the hat in his hands, keeping his gaze on the sheets of paper as he reads aloud, “Victor and Kevin,” then loses himself in the sarcasm and gloating that follows Victor’s immediate claim of bullshit.

Cas gets up and follows Bela as soon as Dean has finished heckling Victor, and even though Dean’s stomach is rolling, his lungs scorching behind his ribs, he forces himself to sit through a few more rounds before passing the hat to Jo and heading upstairs after Cas.

The music is loud and poppy, making Dean wince as he pushes through the crowd of dancing, laughing teenagers. These are all the kids he doesn’t recognize, people from Jo’s school and classroom friends of Charlie’s, just there to fill the space and make the party a party.

At least he doesn’t see Cas grinding on Bela to shitty top 40 music. That image just makes the sizzling heat rise up into his throat, and it tastes like bile, and he has no idea why he feels so jealous, so possessive, but he immediately tries to prop it up with protection, with the thought that Bela is a power-hungry shrew who just wants to tear out Cas’s heart and eat it, and it’s Dean’s job to stop her.

Dean presses the heels of his hands against his forehead, eyes screwed shut, trying to control his breathing. That’s the truth. That’s it. That’s all there is to it.

But when he lowers his hands, turns around, and opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Cas, laid out on the Bradbury’s couch, with Bela sprawled on top of him. They’re not kissing, but there’s still something intimate about it, about Cas’s hands rubbing up and down her back, whispering into her hair as she gently clutches his dress shirt, then compulsively smoothes it out against his chest. Dean can’t see her face, but a few locks of hair, golden highlights, are curled around Cas’s nose, his cheekbones, his eyes, and Dean feels like he’s just been punched in the gut.

He doesn’t even think about it. He doesn’t stop to say good-bye to anyone. Dean just storms out into the night, trying to control his breathing as he climbs up into the truck and drives back home.

The dissonance of it, of Cas’s floundering but insistent kiss versus his tender affection with Bela, haunts Dean and refuses to let him sleep until long after midnight.

Lisa never crosses his mind once. But he doesn’t realize that until much, much later.

**July 10th, 2006**

Whatever this place is, it’s so white and soft that it might as well be a cloud. Maybe it’s Dean’s heaven. Sure seems like heaven, with Lisa spread out on silky sheets beneath him, smiling and humming and sighing as he presses his fingers into her bronzed skin, and uses his tongue to further explore the place between her thighs. She tastes less sour now, almost sweet, and Dean could probably live his whole life right here, die happy with her hands in his hair as she softly moans his name and rolls her hips against his movements.

The best part is when she comes, when her nails dig into his scalp and she makes a soft, choked noise, her toes pressed against his back. Dean lifts his head as she relaxes, grinning, rising up to take his turn.

But Lisa stops him, gripping his shoulder and smiling ethereally. He opens his mouth to speak, to ask what’s wrong, but she presses a finger to his lips and slowly shakes her head. “No,” she says, her voice hushed yet still echoing somehow, spreading out into the space around them, “I have a surprise for you.”

She gracefully slides out of bed, leading the way to a golden door that Dean’s pretty sure wasn’t there before, but hey, this is heaven, and heaven can be whatever the hell he wants it to be. Mostly, Dean’s distracted by Lisa’s curves, the way her ass sways as she leads the way, like some kind of barefoot, nude Venus, completely confident with her own developing body. Whatever this surprise is, Dean hopes it ends with putting his dick somewhere warm and wet, preferably in-

He stops in the open doorway, as Lisa steps aside and sweeps an arm out, gesturing towards a new bed. More white, everywhere, sheer and lacey, and curled up in the sheets is another figure, though Dean can’t see a face. All he can see is skin, just a few shades lighter than Lisa’s, barely covered by white sheets… and wings. Coal black wings tucked up as close to the torso as possible, fluttering gently as the rib cage rises and falls..

Dean glances at Lisa, takes in her knowing smile, before he approaches the bed and carefully reaches out to drag his fingertips through the feathers. The touch causes them to jolt, and the figure to sit up and turn around.

Blue. Bright blue eyes. Electric and stunning and Dean’s hypnotized even before he notices the little smile playing on full lips.

“Oh,” says Cas, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean drinks it in, every moment, as Cas stretches high, his wings reaching higher, then leans over to press a kiss against Dean’s lips, gingerly cupping Dean’s face in his hands. Dean doesn’t even think about it, doesn’t care that Lisa’s in the room; she arranged this for him, she wanted him to have this, so he takes what he’s given, parting his lips to let Cas slide his tongue inside, and he doesn’t even care about the groaning noises that seem to be vibrating up from his own throat.

When Cas pulls back, he’s smiling, that sweet little smile he makes when he’s up to something, and Dean’s dick twitches with interest. Lisa crawls up onto the bed as Cas stands up, the sheets falling away from his hips, but he’s down on his knees before Dean can get a good look at him. Dean doesn’t even have time to feel robbed before both of his paramours start manhandling him, Cas pulling at his legs and hips, Lisa pushing at his back. He’s arranged on the edge of the bed, and Lisa puts her hands over his eyes, pressing sweet kisses to his neck before she whispers in his ear, “You deserve this.”

Dean shudders, and when Lisa removes her hands, he’s assaulted by that blue gaze once again, trapped in it, all the more so because Cas is situated between Dean’s thighs, smiling that mischievous smile as he skims his palms over Dean’s stomach, sweeps them back down to his thighs. The wings go up, inexplicably huge, covering the three of them like a canopy as Cas presses a kiss just below Dean’s navel.

“She’s right,” Cas sighs, “you do.”

Then Cas wraps a hand around the base of Dean’s cock and slides his lips over the head, suckling gently, and Dean’s eyes roll back. He falls backwards into Lisa’s arms, lets her hold him and kiss the bolt of his jaw as Cas hums, lets Dean slip further into his mouth. There’s two pairs of hands on him, one soft and small and carefully brushing over his nipples, the other soft and large, pressing into his hips. Dean’s overwhelmed with the attention, all this tenderness, but both of them say he deserves it, and Lisa arranged it herself, presented Cas, his own _angel_ , as a gift.

Dean moans, hips rolling, and Cas’s head moves with it, like a rock star, keeping Dean’s cock sheathed in the warm, wet paradise that is his mouth, and Dean lifts his head to watch, to let himself be ensnared by Cas’s gaze once again, and _God_ , Dean hopes that this becomes a regular thing. Cas’s lips are pink and swollen, sliding up and down Dean’s dick, and it looks as fucking incredible as it feels.

Dean lifts a hand to Cas’s hair, just to touch it, because he’s never really had the chance to do that before, and Cas moans around him, wings fluttering, clearly pleased. Dean whimpers, tightens his grip, and tilts his head back to mouth at Lisa’s jaw, her chin, the corner of her lips, whatever he can reach. She giggles softly, nibbling at his shoulder, playfully refusing to allow him a real kiss and therefore forcing him to focus on Cas.

And Dean’s close. He’s so fucking close, with Cas making those noises around him, Cas’s hair so soft and wild beneath his fingertips, with Lisa laughing, low and pleased in his ear. Her lips pressed against his neck, Cas’s lips stretched around his dick, and fuck, fuck it, as soon as Dean’s done, he’s hauling Cas up and returning the favor, because nothing has ever felt this good, and-

Dean wakes up.

It’s still dark out, moonlight streaming in through the little window near the ceiling. The fan whirs overhead, and Dean takes a deep, shaky breath before he sits up and tries to reorient himself. His drawings and posters are hanging on the wall, his bookshelf overflowing, his desk in the corner, his phone plugged in beside his bed.

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling the sheets away from his body, and _fuck_ , they’re damp with sweat. And sticky.

He came. Came in his fucking sleep like he hasn’t done since he was thirteen. Sex dreams and morning wood he can live with, as long as he doesn’t have to do a whole fucking load of laundry before his mom gets up for her early shift at the cafe.

And _God_. Usually it’s some porn star he snuck a glimpse of off the censored rack at 7-11, or it’s Lisa, hot and willing. But this time? It was Cas. Big blue eyes and soft pink lips, shiny and wet around his dick, and Dean runs a hand through his hair, sweat chilling on his skin.

Why is he having sex dreams about _Cas_? Especially when, after what he saw at Jo’s party, he’s pretty sure Cas is involved in some sort of thing with Bela, whether Cas wants to admit to it or not.

Dean rubs that same hand over his face, over his mouth, and makes a noise. Fuck. He’s too tired for this. Lisa will be back tomorrow, and then he can sink back into her and forget this stupid, meaningless dream ever happened.

He slides out of bed and strips the sheets, then strips out of his t-shirt and boxers before collapsing naked on the naked mattress. He’ll clean up and figure all this out in the morning.

He just hopes he doesn’t dream it all again.

\-----

Later, at the garage, Dean’s cleaning grease off his hands when his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. He quickly finishes drying his skin, then pulls his phone out, ready to flip it open when the name on the little screen catches his eye.

Cas.

Dean swallows, his head flashing with images of black feathers and blue eyes. His stomach drops, leaving him flushed and a little nauseous as he silences his phone and slips it back into his pocket.

He can’t do it now. Maybe after Lisa gets back from San Francisco, when he can hold her and kiss her and remind himself what he’s really here for, maybe then he can talk to Cas again, look him in the eyes and not think about Cas on his knees with a dick in his mouth. _Dean’s_ dick.

Fuck. He just.

Can’t.

**July 11th, 2006**

“Lisa deserves so much better than me.”

“... Dean?” And Cas’s voice is always so comforting. That low, peaceful rumble, even over a cheap phone speaker, soothes all the angry rambling going on in Dean’s head. “Dean, are you okay?”

“You deserve better too, fuck, I’m sorry,” Dean slurs, rubbing a hand over his face and ignoring the blood as he leans back against the wall. Someone trips over his feet and swears at him, but Dean’s already been through enough tonight, so he ignores it, curling up on the floor. “Cas, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” God bless him, Cas is so patient. Maybe because he’s an angel, because angels are so perfect. Dean laughs without answering the question, and hears Cas sighing in his ear. “Dean, are you drunk?”

“Promised Lisa I wouldn’t,” Dean responds, almost whining. “Only way I got her here was promising I wouldn’t drink anything and look at me now.” Spread out on the floor of an unfamiliar house, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. His knuckles are bruised and his nose is still bleeding, and maybe his lips are bleeding too - he can taste copper when he runs his tongue over his teeth, and when he sniffs, a ringing pain shoots up into his head. Why does he do this shit? Why has he let this deal with Alastair escalate to this point, to the point that he can’t even take his girlfriend out without getting drunk and beating someone up and hating himself for it? “Cas, I’m a fucking mess, why do you even bother with me?”

“Dean.” And that one-syllable word says so much, tone and inflection speaking volumes, but it’s all in a language that Dean doesn’t understand. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“Lisa’s here,” Dean mumbles, closing his eyes.

“With you? Is she sober?” Cas takes a deep breath. “Can I speak to her?”

Dean opens his eyes. There’s a few blurred faces looking down at him, but he can’t tell who they are no matter how he twists and squints. He raises his voice when he asks, “Where’s Lisa?” Cas curses softly in his ear, but one of the indistinguishable faces nods and starts yelling Lisa’s name, asking other nearby party-goers where she is. No one seems to have heard of her, and most people go back to the party after only a brief pause to laugh at Dean. And Dean has no idea how much time has passed, but he can hear words being exchanged above him and Cas is speaking in his ear, and then he smells something sweet, and when his eyes focus, it’s on Lisa’s face, her eyes wide and glassy.

“Hey,” he says, ignoring the way her hand cards through his hair, her thumb brushing his chin. “Hey. Lis. Cas.” He grins shakily, dropping the phone, but Lisa immediately grabs it and presses it to her ear.

“Cas?” she says, and Dean zones out again, letting his mind drift, in and out of clarity. He registers Lisa attempting to slide a hand under Dean’s back, and he can’t help her, can’t lift himself, and he laughs because it’s either that, or start crying over how much of a useless shit he is and how much he can’t believe that Lisa is even bothering to help him. If she had any sense, she’d cut her losses and leave him here to waste, but at the same time, Dean doesn’t know what he’d do if she did that. He can’t comprehend why people care about him, but he’s so fucking selfish, because he doesn’t want them to stop either.

He’s scum. Selfish, needy, useless scum.

And now he’s up on his feet, a strong arm behind his back, carefully leading him down a set of steps, and once he’s on flat ground again, a gentler hand is wiping the blood off his face. He coughs and gags, at which point, the hands opt to keep leading him forward, and he leans up against the strong body that’s keeping him vertical. He smells peppermint, and even though that’s such a common smell, his brain instantly lights up in neon, Castiel, and he smiles, laughs, and inhales again.

Next thing Dean knows, he’s in a car. Not his truck; the ride is too smooth. He gags again, hears a deep voice to his left, “Shit, don’t you dare,” so Dean doesn’t.

Then, he registers going up a flight of stairs, a lot of yelling and pounding, and that makes his head hurt so he tucks his face into the neck of whoever is holding him up and whimpers. There’s the smell of peppermint again, and the hand around his waist tightens its grip, but then he’s pitching forward, and there’s another set of hands cupping his face. He can focus enough to register his mother’s eyes, but not quite enough to recognize what that means.

Instead, when he’s pushed into laying down on something soft, he groans in misery and takes it as his cue to finally, _finally_ , fall asleep.

**July 12th, 2006**

As soon as Dean wakes up, he’s gagging again, off and running for the downstairs bathroom. He makes it just in time, spending several minutes throwing up stuff he doesn’t even remember eating, then another several minutes with his forehead pressed to the porcelain, waiting for his stomach to stop turning somersaults.

When he finally exits the bathroom, after brushing his teeth and finally washing all the dried blood off his face, he’s immediately hit with the smell of grease cooking, and it makes his stomach roll again. The groan he lets out makes Mary’s face appear in the archway, and she smirks when his eyes widen in surprise. “You’re gonna thank me for this,” she says as Dean slowly shuffles into the kitchen. “Not that you don’t deserve this hangover, because you definitely do, but hey, I’m your mom. I’m supposed to take care of you.” She plates some bacon and hash browns as Dean takes a seat at the island, then smiles serenely as she shoves the food under his nose. “Even when you make terrible decisions and scare the shit out of everyone who loves you.”

Dean groans again, pushing the plate away, but Mary just pushes it back, dropping a fork onto the porcelain. “It’ll help your stomach,” Mary says calmly, pulling up a stool to sit across from Dean with a plate of her own. “If I’m wrong, then maybe I’ll lighten your punishment a little bit.”

Dean winces, and grudgingly takes a small bite of bacon. Mary smiles encouragingly, so he takes a few more. His head is pounding, so painful he can almost hear it, and he rubs a hand over his eyes just for a few seconds of relief. Mary just rolls her eyes. “Suck it up, buttercup. You got yourself into this mess.”

Dean whines a little more, then eats a little more, then finally manages to find his voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Mary shrugs, thoughtfully poking at her hash browns. “Maybe I should take some time off work,” she says carefully. “Maybe I need to be around more if you’re going to start acting out again.”

Dean blinks at her, his face contorting into a pout. “We can’t afford that-” he starts, but Mary reaches over the countertop and gently grips his hand.

“Baby, if we have to move in with Bobby and Ellen to keep you from going down this road, then that’s what we’ll do.” Dean meets her eyes briefly, and his heart aches when she sighs and removes her hand, turning back to her plate. She’s not eating so much as pushing the food around, and even though Dean is sick and miserable, he’s not an idiot.

“Mom, it’s not your fault,” Dean says quietly. Mary raises her head to meet his eyes again.

“I should still be around more,” she responds after a moment of silence. “You and Sam are both at really tough ages, and you’re growing up so fast, and where am I? Missing it.” She tsks, focusing on her plate again, as if the bacon holds the answers she’s looking for. “I should be here. For both of you.”

It’s not that simple. Dean’s drinking, the violence, it’s not just a matter of whether or not Mary is home to stop him, or to talk him through his feelings. It’s not due to any particular person’s influence either. Dean made a deal to protect his loved ones, and that deal has spiraled out of control.

But that’s all on Dean. He has to bear that weight alone.

He clears his throat and manages a few more bites of bacon before turning to the potatoes. He does so much of the cooking these days that he hadn’t realized how much he missed Mary’s meals. Even the simple ones, like this, are so much more robust than anything Dean can put together. Maybe if he asks her how she does it, what kind of spices or techniques she uses, she’ll move off this train of conversation.“Mom-”

“Do you want to tell me why you got so drunk that Lisa and Cas had to drag you home last night?” Mary cuts him off, suddenly stern. When Dean can only gape at her, she continues: “Or how you got so much blood on you? Jeez,” she shakes her head, running a hand through her blonde curls. “Scared me half to death, seeing Cas carrying you in with all that blood on your face. Lisa was in tears, and Cas nearly was after you passed out.” She sighs, resting her chin in her hands. “So I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

Dean shakes his head, closing his eyes against the images his mother is creating. The last thing he wants is for anyone to cry over him, especially Lisa and Cas. He doesn’t deserve them, and they don’t deserve the shit he puts them through. Not to mention that makes twice now that Cas has come out to rescue Dean from a mess of his own making, and Dean just repays him by making bigger messes. Maybe it would be better for everyone if Lisa dumped him and starting dating Cas instead. They’re both such incredible, caring people. Why should they waste all that love on Dean? All he’ll do is break their hearts in the end.

“I’m an idiot,” Dean mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. Mary watches him closely, then nudges the plate closer to Dean, reminding him to eat.

“Your grades dropped last year,” Mary says, taking a small bite of potatoes. “Is it because you were drinking?”

Dean opts not to answer, shoving his food away to rest his head in his hands instead. It’s too early for this, and he has too much to think about to worry over grades he can’t change. Mary sighs, apparently realizing that she’s lost Dean to his headache.

“You’re grounded,” she says, then pauses, as if waiting for him to protest. He doesn’t; Dean knows that he fucked up, knows that he deserves whatever restrictions he gets. “You can keep your phone for now, but no friends over and no going out. Of course, you can go to work, and you can pick Sam up from soccer practice, but everything else is off-limits.”

Dean sighs. Considering how much Mary works, it would be easy to sneak around and do as he wished. As long as he avoids the Roadhouse and Mary’s jobs, he should be home free. But the fact remains that Dean is a screw-up who needs to do penance. So if this is what Mary wants, then fine. Dean will stick to it. “For how long?” he asks, and Mary takes a moment to think about it.

“Two weeks,” she says. “So you can still take Sam and Jo to that concert in Portland.”

Dean makes a face, reminded of his promise and how very much he wishes he could have an excuse not to go. Mary seems pleased by this, and once again, gently reminds him to eat. As he does so, slowly and carefully, still wary of his churning stomach, Mary says, “Dean, I love you. And I don’t want you to end up like your father.”

Dean stares at his plate, chewing the bacon without tasting it. A drunken fuck-up just like Dad. Too late to stop that train.

“So please,” Mary continues, “promise me you’ll stop drinking so much.”

Not possible. As soon as Dean’s punishment is up, he’ll be expected to be back out with Alastair, and he can’t do any part of that job sober. And if he wants Alastair to leave his friends alone, then that’s what he has to do.

But he can’t tell Mary that. She won’t understand, and if she thinks that Dean or Sam could be in danger, like when Dean ran around with gangs back in Topeka, then she might pack them up and move somewhere else, and Dean doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to leave Charlie or Jo or Lisa. He doesn’t want to be somewhere where he can’t see Cas during the summer.

“I promise,” he whispers. Mary smiles, and they finish their breakfast in silence.

**July 14th, 2006**

Dark gray clouds are rolling in over the ocean. The wind is high and ragged, so that Dean’s hair and t-shirt are whipping around when he steps away from the garage for just a moment. Business is slow today, most likely due to the weather, but Dean would still rather be here than at home. Two days into his punishment, and the house is already closing in on him, lonely and boring. At first, Sam had seemed pretty happy to have Dean around more often, but he still manages to escape before Dean even gets out of bed, probably out with Sarah or Andy or Jo, and Dean doesn’t see him again until dinner time

He leans back against the wall, taking in the scenery. Leaves are thrashing in the wind, and white-tipped waves crash against the empty beach. Even the tourists won’t risk a swim when the sky looks so angry. The air is thick and heavy, half sea salt and half that pungent nature smell that comes with a storm. Dean’s back is already soaked with sweat from the humidity. He actually feels a small pang of regret - this is the perfect weather to get together at Charlie or Pam’s house, play card games and watch movies while the storm rages on outside.

Instead, as soon as Bobby decides to send Dean home, Dean will be stuck by himself in an empty house.

Maybe it’s time to finally take up painting.

Dean sighs. He couldn’t afford the materials.

His eye is drawn to the empty building next to the garage, covered in cracked, white paint. Bobby bought the space a few years ago, hoping to expand his own business, but the opportunity and need never arrived, and no one else seemed interested in purchasing it.

Dean thinks it looks like a canvas. If he had a big enough idea and a ton of paint, he could probably make something beautiful with all that empty space.

Footsteps crunch the gravel in front of the office, and Dean turns to see Cas approaching him, hair a mess and cheeks pink from the abusive wind. He’s smiling though, so Dean smiles back. It’s hesitant; Dean hasn’t really seen Cas since he had that weird dream, and if Dean hadn’t gotten so drunk and sought help and comfort from Cas, he’s not sure they’d be speaking yet.

It’s weird. Dean hates himself a little, but really, how do you handle something like this? Cas’s eyes aren’t that electric blue from his dream - in fact, they look almost navy in the cloudy light - but that’s definitely the mouth that encased Dean’s dick while Lisa watched, and Dean’s can’t not see it. It’s so bad that Cas is smiling that playful little smile, one corner of his mouth higher than the other, and Dean’s dick actually gives an interested twitch.

Dean takes a deep breath, and turns away. Heat is crawling up his neck, but maybe he can write it off as nothing more than the wind. “Hey, Cas,” he murmurs, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas responds. “I hadn’t heard from you since the party, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Dean lifts his head, surprised. Cas isn’t smiling anymore; he’s looking out at the ocean, eyes distant. “‘M fine,” Dean says, then rubs at his face. “D’you wanna come inside for a minute?”

Cas nods slowly, so Dean leads the way back into the front office, away from the screaming wind. His ears are rushing as they step inside, so he takes a moment to press at them, then attempts to fix his hair. Cas follows his lead, but only succeeds at mussing his hair even further. Dean huffs, and has to restrain himself from reaching over to fix it.

“I was worried,” Cas says quietly, staring at his shoes. “I’d never seen you that bad before. And Lisa…” Cas swallows, shaking his head. “Lisa was really scared.”

“I know,” Dean answers curtly. “You don’t need to work the guilt angle. Mom already did that.”

Cas winces and lifts his head, biting his upper lip for a moment. “I don’t want to guilt you,” he says. “You put enough on yourself, I don’t want to add to that. I just… wanted you to know.”

“Know what?”

Cas shrugs. “That people care.”

Dean’s so surprised that he almost doesn’t hear Bobby come in from the garage. The bearded old grizzly makes plenty of noise, though, stomping his boots on the ground and grumbling to himself before he comes into view. He notices Cas immediately.

Dean cringes. “Bobby…”

“Don’t think your Mama didn’t tell me what you did, boy,” Bobby says gruffly. “Or what your punishment is.”

“I know, Bobby, I didn’t-”

“I can go,” Cas interjects, gesturing at the door. “I didn’t know Dean was being punished, so it’s my fault. I can leave.”

Dean’s heart twists, which is also weird, because despite how awkward he feels regarding his dream, Dean doesn’t want Cas to _leave_ either. It’s nice to have a friend around, someone who can help Dean forget about what a fuck-up he is.

Bobby narrows his eyes, studying Cas, then nods once. “Your hair’s a mess, boy,” he comments, then disappears back into the garage. Dean glances at Cas, then laughs at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“Come here,” Dean says, and he hates himself so much for this, but as soon as Cas is close enough, Dean’s hands are buried in that dark mess of hair, trying to get the strands back under control. It’s a futile mission, and not only because Cas will just have to go back out in the wind when he leaves, but Dean doesn’t care. Cas has to lean down a little to give Dean access, which means his growth spurt is still going. Dean chuckles to himself - he’ll catch up soon, he’s sure. John Winchester maxed out at six-foot-two, and Mary’s not exactly a hobbit herself, so height isn’t something Dean worries about too much.

The urge to pull Cas close and bury his nose in Cas’s hair, however…

Dean takes a deep breath, and gently pushes Cas back. “Better,” he says, giving up a strained smile. Cas smiles shyly back, and Dean suddenly aches, deep in his chest, hating the awkward air between them. The one that’s all his own fault. “Mom grounded me.”

“I figured,” Cas says. “For how long?”

“Until the Panic at the Party concert,” and Dean can’t resist the urge to smirk at Cas’s over-dramatic eyeroll. “I can work and I can keep my phone, but otherwise I’m cut off.”

“Maybe that’s for the better,” Cas says slowly. Dean frowns.

“How so?”

“You could use this as a way to finally cut ties with Alastair.” Cas is grinning outright, eyes alight with hope. “Just end it, cold turkey. His business has expanded so much that he may not even miss you, and more than likely won’t even have time to mess with Jo or Sam.”

It’s too simple. Too easy. It’d make Dean a loose thread, someone who knows too much and poses a risk. If Dean ever dropped off the radar, Alastair would absolutely send Ruby or Lilith off to find him and drag him back, and if he refused, then Azazel would send a message somehow. Dean’s in this too deep and he knows it, but he can’t resist that light in Cas’s eyes.

“Maybe,” Dean says weakly. “I can try.”

“I can help.” And Cas looks so earnest that it makes Dean’s heart break, but he covers it up with a smile. This kind of little white lie is becoming a habit. Dean’s used to being disappointing, though.

**July 16th, 2006**

The room is red this time. Long scarlet curtains, a crimson bedspread, and Lisa wrapped up in a candy-apple red robe, draped over her curves just so, but not quite revealing anything. Cas is seated on the bed, looking disinterested as Lisa tuts at Dean.

“You were very rude to Castiel, Dean,” Lisa says, placing her hands on her hips. “You treat him like a toy, something you can just put away when you don’t need it. Doesn’t he deserve better?”

Dean nods quickly, which makes Lisa smile. She puts a hand on Dean’s arm, guiding him back towards the bed. Cas looks up as they approach, his wings twitching, eyes sparking with electricity, and it reels Dean in. He can’t look away, even as he crawls onto the bed, as Lisa gently draws a hand down his spine.

“You should make it up to Cas,” Lisa whispers in his ear, “don’t you think?”

Dean’s mouth is watering as Cas spreads his wings and lays back, tucking his hands under his head. His erection is prominent, immediately grabbing Dean’s attention, and when Dean reaches out to wrap a loose fist around it, Cas’s hips move into the touch, and Dean doesn’t understand why he’s never done this before. Cas is gorgeous, his skin soft and glowing, and the way his body moves as Dean tightens his grip and settles into a rhythm is just sinful. The perfect juxtaposition to those beautiful wings and angelic eyes.

Cas starts whining, one hand tugging at his hair as he writhes, and Lisa reappears at Dean’s side. “You can do better than that,” she chastises. “You can get me off with your mouth, and you like it. Why not give Cas the same treatment?”

Dean closes his eyes and moans at the thought, and doesn’t even warn Cas before he leans over and takes Cas’s dick into his mouth. Cas yelps, both hands immediately falling into Dean’s hair, gripping like a lifeline as his hips undulate into the damp warmth of Dean’s mouth. Dean doesn’t even mind. In fact, he kind of enjoys it; Cas is always so collected and calm, and sometimes Dean worries that he’s missing something, that Cas is holding back and using double-speak that Dean doesn’t understand. This is better. This is Cas letting go, and it’s the only thing Dean wants.

Dean glances up to see Cas’s head tilted back, a pink tint on his neck and ears, and he hums softly before hollowing his cheeks, sucking hard enough that a low moan is ripped from Cas’s throat just before he comes.

The taste on Dean’s tongue is familiar, not all that different from the way Lisa tastes, and as he lets Cas’s dick slip from his mouth, Dean decides he likes it. No matter the source, Dean likes this taste, this smell, and he likes the way people smile as they catch their breath. He did that, put that smile there.

That’s all Dean ever wants, when you boil everything down to the basics: to make people happy.

Lisa’s on the bed now, smiling and running her fingernails over Cas’s belly, watching it twitch and jump under her touch. “That was a good show, boys,” she comments, voice low and dark, and that’s when Dean notices the red robe is gone, all her tanned skin on display. His cock jumps, happily reminding Dean that he still needs to take care of himself, now that Cas is done. Lisa giggles.

“How about we share?” she suggests, sliding up the sheets towards Cas’s head. Dean frowns, confused, but then Cas’s heels are digging into the small of his back, tugging Dean close enough that Dean’s cock rubs up against Cas’s ass, and _oh_. Oh that’s a _good idea_. In fact, that’s the best fucking idea anyone has ever had in the history of _ever_.

Cas laughs at the look on Dean’s face, then reaches out across the bed to take Lisa’s hand. “You can have a seat right here, m’lady,” Cas says, pointing at his face, and yes, god, fuck, that’s even better, God, Dean’s in love with such smart, beautiful people, because now he gets to fuck Cas, sink his cock deep inside, maybe make Cas come again, and at the same time, he gets to watch Cas make Lisa come, and everyone gets to have a good time, and Dean loves them both _so fucking much_ , and he’s going to come _so fucking hard_ -

Dean opens his eyes, gasping.

It’s his room. Dark, except for the small sliver of moonlight coming through that tiny window near the ceiling. And he’s all alone in his bed.

Dean takes a few deep breaths before sitting up on his elbows. He’s still sweating, his body feeling oddly heavy as he pushes the blankets down to his knees. He didn’t come this time, and while it’s a relief that he doesn’t have to deal with come-stained boxers and blankets, there’s still the problem of his raging boner. His breath is coming slow and ragged, and those images won’t leave his mind: Cas spread out beneath him, Lisa straddling Cas’s face, and Dean swears, running a hand over his face.

He doesn’t _want_ to jerk off. Not with that scene still so fresh in his head. But there’s no way he’s going back to sleep until he takes care of this.

He struggles out of his shirt, then pulls his boxers off, tossing his clothes on the floor next to his bed. His cock is already drooling pre-come onto his stomach, and Dean hisses when he finally wraps a hand around himself and starts moving. He’s close. Of course he is, he was just the victim of a particularly vivid dream that he’d rather not think about when he’s consciously stroking his dick.

It’s one thing to have a dream. No one can control what they dream about, after all. The mind just unloads, spinning out pictures and stories that don’t have to make sense.

It’s a completely different thing for Dean to recall that dream and pleasure himself to it. Especially when it features his male best friend willingly spreading his legs just for Dean to slide between.

And _God_ , how could Dean even _think_ about watching Cas pleasure Lisa? That’s the _last_ thing he wants, to risk losing his girlfriend to his best friend, and yet when Dean finally comes, that’s the image seared on his eyelids: Dean sinking into Cas as Lisa settles in to Cas’s tongue.

Dean takes a few deep breaths, letting his skin cool off and staring blankly at the ceiling, attempting to force all those pictures out of his head, or at least tuck them away somewhere secret, the same place he hides that occasional desire to kiss Cas and his memories of doing so.

God. He doesn’t want to think about that right now either.

What the hell is wrong with him?

**July 18th, 2006**

As soon as the dishes are all clean and put away, Sam quickly thanks Dean for dinner and darts upstairs to his room to close the door. Dean frowns, debating the pros and cons of trying to figure out what Sam’s up to, but then his phone goes off, effectively distracting him.

Mainly because the name lit up on his phone is Alastair’s.

Dean takes a deep breath, wondering if he should just ignore it, but he figures that maybe Alastair will leave him alone if he tells the truth. He flips his phone open and says, “Hello?”

“Dean-o,” Alastair drawls. His voice is lilting and pleased, which sends goosebumps racing down Dean’s arms. “Are you free tonight?”

“No,” Dean says shortly. Alastair just laughs.

“Don’t play hard-to-get with me, Dean. It’s not attractive.”

Dean shudders. “I mean it. I can’t. I’m grounded.”

Alastair laughs again. “You think I don’t know how you’ve managed to go this long without punishment? Your mother works, Dean. I know which three restaurants to find her at. Don’t tell me you’re too much of a child to sneak out, or I might have to arrange a meeting with dear, sweet Mary to explain the situation.”

Knowing that Alastair has collected that kind of information makes Dean’s stomach turn, and reminds him of why he made this deal in the first place. Alastair isn’t opposed to using violence to send a message, after all. Dean’s living proof of that.

At the same time, the nausea quickly turns to rage, bubbling up into Dean’s chest - threatening Dean’s mother? Dean could take Alastair out if he were angry enough, and coming after Mary would definitely get him to that point.

“I said, no,” Dean repeats before hanging up and throwing his phone on the counter. It starts ringing again almost immediately. Dean hurries to shut the damn thing off, then panics. Sam is safe upstairs, but if Alastair knows where Mary works, then it stands to reason that he knows where the Winchesters live. He probably knows where to find Jo and Charlie and Pam at any given time too, and Dean clenches his teeth, tries to breathe through his nose.

He just fucked this up. If the deal is broken, then Alastair can go after anyone.

Maybe Dean should just call back and go to that party after all. He can keep this up, as long as it keeps everyone safe. Protecting people is his job, after all. He can make a few sacrifices to ensure that no one he loves has to do so.

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair and reaches for the landline, typing in a number he’d memorized without even trying. He needs someone to talk him down without talking down to him, and there’s only one person he trusts to do that.

“Hello?” says Cas.

“I need help,” croaks Dean, and proceeds to relay what just happened. Cas listens carefully, never interrupts, even when Dean starts to go off about his fears, about what could happen to his mother or his brother or the girls he loves like sisters, about how his only option is to keep doing what he’s been doing.

It’s only when Dean realizes his eyes are burning with tears that he finally trails off into silence, and Cas lets it sit for a moment before responding, “Dean, you did the right thing.”

Dean huffs, rubbing a hand over his face. “But what if-”

“Don’t worry about ‘what if’s and ‘maybe’s,” Cas says. His voice is low and soothing, and Dean can feel his shoulders relaxing as Cas talks. “He’s not going to go out and assault anyone just because you said no once. He’s trying to get under your skin, that’s all.”

“If I want to break away, I’m going to have to say no a few more times, and then what?” Dean argues. Cas is usually the big picture person, asking about Dean’s future and trying to prod him towards new possibilities. Dean shouldn’t have to explain this to him.

“For all you know, he’ll just cut his losses. His enterprise is big enough now, I’m sure he could convince some football jock to do what you’re doing.”

Dean takes a few deep breaths, trying to let Cas’s words sink in. He’s not wrong; Dean is reluctant to fight and has a lot of people he asks Alastair to leave alone. There are plenty of kids who would happily do more for less. There’s a warning in the back of Dean’s head, telling him that Alastair won’t just let him dash happily into the sunset, but now that his head is clearing, Dean can tell himself that Alastair should be afraid of him. Dean could take him down easily, if he had to, and Alastair knows just how protective Dean is of his loved ones. That’s how he got Dean into this mess in the first place.

“Thank you,” Dean says, and feels his cheeks heating up over how utterly sincere he sounds, but Cas just laughs softly.

“You’re welcome,” he answers, quiet but just as honest, then continues, “Tell me about your day. Are you sick of being locked up yet?”

“Not enough to willingly go to the Frenzy at the Fiesta concert,” Dean mutters, and when Cas laughs again, Dean can’t help smiling. Weird sex dreams or not, he can’t let go of Cas now. He needs him. And while Dean may never say that aloud, realizing it still makes something in his chest settle and glow.

**July 20th, 2006**

Sam is still home, watching cartoons, when Dean finally crawls out of bed. It’s a little surprising, considering Sam hasn’t made much effort to stick around while Dean’s been grounded, and Dean catches himself staring in confusion at the back of Sam’s head.

“Hey, short stuff,” Dean says, cracking his neck as he approaches the couch. “What’cha watchin’?”

Sam raises his eyebrows as Dean takes the seat next to him, then smiles. “Spongebob. You can change it if you want.”

“Nah,” Dean yawns. He stretches his hands over his head before relaxing back into the cushions. “You doin’ anything today?”

“Nope,” Sam answers, eyes glued to the tube. “You?”

“Still grounded. No work.”

“Good.”

And it’s a brief, stunted conversation, but as they sit together on the couch, watching stupid cartoons, a content kind of warmth spreads through Dean. It’s been a long time since he really had the chance to spend time alone with his brother. It helps that Sam gets along with most of Dean’s friends, but there’s still the facts that they go to different schools, that Sam is in some sort of soccer league year-round, that Dean has a job, that they’re both in happy relationships.

A couple hours pass before Sam gets up off the couch. “Stay there,” he says when Dean shifts, then disappears upstairs. Dean frowns, confused, until Sam reappears, carrying a small white envelope in his hands, which he tosses into Dean’s lap before spreading back out on the couch.

“What’s this?” Dean asks, turning the envelope over in his hands.

“A puppy,” Sam says, laughing when Dean rolls his eyes. “Just open it.”

Dean purses his lips before tearing the envelope open, tilting it until a Wal-Mart gift card falls into his open palm. He sighs, shaking his head, “Sam, how-”

“Don’t,” Sam cuts him off, eyes glued to the television. “A bunch of people donated to get you that. Well.” He grins sheepishly, turning to look at Dean. “Cas donated most of it. But! You can’t give it back.”

“But-”

“There’s a hundred bucks on there, just for you.” Sam sits up and pokes Dean’s shoulder. “And you can’t spend it on groceries for me and mom or whatever. Cas, Charlie and Jo all insisted. It has to be spent on you.”

“Sam,” Dean breathes, shaking his head, “I can’t-”

“No. Nope, not gonna hear it.” Sam grins again, bouncing into the couch, clearly excited. “You can buy art supplies with it. Pencils and pens and maybe paints! Sure, they won’t be good ones, but everybody’s gotta start somewhere.” When Dean tries to protest again, Sam dramatically rolls his eyes, sighing. “Dean. I don’t want you to end up like Dad.”

And that’s what catches Dean’s attention, makes him stop and listen. He hadn’t even known Sam was aware of Dean’s other job, but here they are, Sam frowning at Dean like he knows Dean thought he was just another dumb kid, but he’s not. Sam’s never been dumb. Considering the mess he’s in, that’s probably a word better used to describe Dean.

“I miss you,” Sam continues, “and I know that’s kinda my own fault, because I’m so busy with soccer and hanging out with Andy and Sarah, but I hate that you go out and do that stuff. Partying and whatever. Don’t you care about your future, Dean?”

Dean really doesn’t like this. It’s just his kid brother, but with Sam delivering lines Dean has heard both from Cas and Mary recently, he feels like he’s being ganged up on. Besides, what would Sam say if he knew that all of this was for him? To protect him from bullies and predators? Alastair has a lot of pull in this little stretch of the Oregon Coast, so even some small fry kid at Sam’s school, someone who knows nothing about the business, might have to face a penalty for messing with someone on Dean’s protected list.

The truth is, Dean’s pretty sure Sam would just be even more upset if he knew Dean was doing this for him. The same way Jo and Charlie and Pam and Lisa would be. That’s why Dean never told them.

“I promised Mom I wouldn’t go out and party anymore,” Dean croaks, and he’s gripping the gift card so hard that it’s digging painfully into his palm.

“Promise me,” Sam says. “Then it’s a double promise and you really can’t break it.”

Dean laughs softly, turning his gaze to the gift card as he loosens his grip, spinning it between his fingers. It would be nice to have a book with thicker pages, maybe some cheap watercolors. Just to figure out how the whole thing works.

“I promise,” Dean says. It feels like deja vu when Sam’s smile brightens. Dean just swallows his doubts and tries to smile back.

 

**July 22nd, 2006**

The room is blue now, dark navy, like the night sky just after sunset. Cas’s skin stands out here, a soft, sun-tanned territory marked for Dean’s exploration, stretched out on the bed, on top of the covers. There’s no wings this time, and Dean mourns the loss for a moment, but quickly consoles himself by leaning down to press his lips against Cas’s. He could do this forever; the little pecks they’ve exchanged, and even that floundering kiss they shared at Jo’s party, they just aren’t enough. It’s like finding a parched man in the desert and giving him a thimbleful of water. How does that help his thirst?

Here, in this hidden room, Dean feels braver. He can take all the kisses he wants, and Cas will return them, until their lips are swollen and sore and they can hardly breathe. Only then does Dean rest his head on Cas’s shoulder, trailing his fingertips over Cas’s stomach, down to loosely grip his cock and give it a few strokes, smirking when Cas’s hips writhe.

“I like this,” Dean whispers into warm skin, nose pressed to Cas’s neck. He feels safe here, tucked up against Cas’s side, and it’s nice to drop the weight of the world for a little while and relax with someone he loves.

A kiss is dropped into Dean’s hair before Cas bats Dean’s hand away and turns onto his side, leaving another kiss between Dean’s eyes before he smiles. “Me too,” he responds, dragging his fingers over Dean’s cheekbone. Then he reaches between them, taking Dean’s cock into his hand and stroking in earnest, grinning when Dean moans. “Like this better though.”

Dean huffs, gripping Cas’s cock again, matching his pace. “Can’t argue with that,” he grunts, then kisses Cas again.

It’s potent, and Dean falls into it without thought, even as their hands knock together, as they laugh into each other’s mouths. Because it’s good to be able to share pleasure, to be able to kiss and to see Cas’s eyes, the way they glow electric, contrasted by the darker blue sheets they’re drowning in.

And they are drowning in it. Dean swears, the closer he gets to orgasm, the more he can hear the ocean rushing in his ears, a salty spray against his shoulder, like they’re doing this in the middle of the sea, under a starry sky. Not that he’d notice if the location changed; all he can see are Cas’s glowing eyes, the flush in Cas’s cheeks, Cas’s adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to catch his breath-

Dean falls off the couch.

He lands without catching himself, and is a little disoriented as he tries to take in his surroundings. The TV is on, playing the third Back to the Future film. Sunlight streams in through the bay window, and the carpet is soft beneath Dean’s hands as he sits up and takes a few deep breaths. He still has an erection, tucked in his jeans, but it’s nowhere near as prominent as the one from the other night, so Dean ignores it, rubbing his hands over his face instead.

He’s out of control. His head is, at least, spinning these wild dreams. And the scariest part is that this one didn’t even include Lisa. He could excuse the other ones if Lisa was there, if he was pleasuring her or watching her receive pleasure, but this was just _Cas_.

Does this mean he’s gay?

Panic explodes in his chest, but he quickly pushes it down. No. He can’t be gay. He had sex with Lisa, and he liked it. A lot, actually. And he’d like to do it again. Many, many times. He likes eating her out, likes the way she tastes and the noises she makes, and he likes touching her boobs. If he was gay, he wouldn’t like _any_ of those things.

So why the hell is he having these dreams about Cas?

Dean takes a few more deep breaths, trying to get himself under control, then reaches for his phone. He pulls up Charlie’s name in his contact list, putting his phone to his ear as he takes a quick glance around the room, up the stairs, down the hallway, to ensure he’s alone.

“Hey, Captain,” comes Charlie’s voice, “what’s up?”

“How did you know you were gay?” Dean blurts out, instantly regretting it when Charlie is silent for a moment too long.

“What?” She sounds hesitant, confused, and of course she is, because what kind of way is that to open a conversation?

“Sorry,” Dean mutters, leaning back against the couch cushions, spreading his legs out underneath the coffee table. “Sorry, I didn’t… you don’t have to answer that.”

“No, no, it’s…” Charlie laughs softly. “It’s kind of cool that you’re asking, actually. This is what I was prepared for when I first told you.” She clears her throat, and Dean can hear something creaking in the background. “Um. Well. I’d never really had any crushes on boys. I like you and Sam and Kevin, but those floaty, la-la, fireworks feelings never really showed up for me.”

She trails off then, so Dean smiles, rubbing his eyes. “Until Jo?”

“... Yeah.” He can practically see her, fidgeting uncomfortably. “And it took forever to notice too, y’know, because I just never even considered I might not be straight. But one day a lock of hair fell out of her ponytail, and all I wanted to do was tuck it behind her ear. And then touch her neck. And… maybe kiss her.” Charlie sighs deeply. “And I just kinda went, oh.” Silence falls, punctuated by an awkward little giggle. “Yup. The End.”

Dean stares at the TV without seeing it. “No dreams?” he asks gruffly.

“What do you mean?”

“You never had any weird dreams about Jo? Or, y’know, other girls?”

“No,” Charlie answers after a strained pause. “Why do you ask?”

Dean considers telling her. He’s pretty sure she wouldn’t judge him, and knows she’d keep it to herself. It’d be nice to be able to get some of this off his chest.

But the words catch in his throat as he thinks of Lisa. He hasn’t really had the chance to see her since that awful party, and they haven’t had sex since the first time. Maybe that’s what he really needs. To be with Lisa, maybe sleep with her, and remind his body what it really wants.

“No reason,” Dean says. “Sorry if I bothered you.”

“No bother!” Charlie chirps, cheerful as always. “Call me again when you’re out of the dungeon and we’ll go to the arcade, okay?”

“It’s a date,” Dean answers, smiling slightly. “See you, Bones.”

“So long, Kirk.”

As soon as she hangs up, Dean goes to the contact right above her’s and dials Lisa, who answers almost immediately.

“Dean!”

“Hey, Lis,” Dean says. “So technically I’m still grounded, but I have to pick Sam up from soccer practice in a bit, do you want to meet me at the field?”

“Is that allowed?” Lisa asks slowly. Dean laughs.

“I’m allowed to pick up Sam. If you happen to be at the field at the same time I am, then oops, what a happy coincidence.”

“I like that plan. I’ve missed you,” and she sounds sincere enough that Dean feels guilt piling on his shoulders. When she says things like that, those stupid dreams almost feel like cheating. The kisses, too.

“Miss you too,” Dean murmurs. “Meet me in a half hour?”

“Sounds good. See you then!”

Lisa hangs up and Dean tosses his phone onto the coffee table. His erection is gone, and the specifics of the dream are started to fade, but the content remains, like a billboard forcing Dean to confront the weirdness inside his head.

He just has to see Lisa. For a few moments. And then all this will go away.

It just has to.

**July 24th, 2006**

Maybe Dean should just go buy a new phone. Get a new number. Pay As You Go phones aren’t that expensive; he can spare twenty bucks just to ensure that Alastair finally leaves him alone.

But even as he shuts his phone off and tosses it on the counter, he knows that’s not true. Alastair had mentioned Sam’s soccer practices this time, and Bobby’s shop, and the Roadhouse. Granted, Dean’s pretty sure Alastair lives in Sileas so of course he knows about those places, but considering how many years he has on Dean, it’s unsettling that he knows so much about Dean’s usual hangouts. Not to mention, Dean has never seen Alastair at any of those locations.

It’s creepy. A little terrifying, actually.

Dean takes a few deep breaths, running a hand through his hair. He should just go to the party. Make an appearance. Show his face. Then disappear. Except that wouldn’t work because Alastair would actually expect him to do his job, and if Dean wasn’t around to do it, then there would _really_ be trouble.

Dean reaches for the landline phone and dials Cas’s number again.

“Hello?”

“Cas,” Dean says, “I just got off the phone with Alastair.”

Cas sighs, and for a moment, Dean feels guilty for trying to pile this on his friend. It’s his weight to bear, not Cas’s.

“Did you tell him no?” Cas asks, voice soft and soothing.

“Yeah. He wasn’t too happy about it.”

“I bet.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and runs a hand over his face. “I’m a little freaked out. He keeps talking about places he could find me or my friends.”

“He’s just trying to scare you into coming back. Don’t listen. If it comes down to it, just fight back.” Cas pauses, then chuckles slightly. “I tried to tell you this last year, that he only wanted you to fight _for_ him so you wouldn’t end up fighting _him_. Maybe next time, you just remind him what you’re capable of. What you did to Azazel when he got too close to Sam. See if Alastair wants to threaten your family then.”

Dean smiles to himself, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Thanks, Cas.” Talking to Cas always makes him feel better, somehow. Thoughts flit across his mind, about the weird dreams, about maybe he shouldn’t be letting himself get this close to Cas if it results in dreams like those. He hasn’t had any since he saw Lisa a couple days ago, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re gone for good.

“You’re welcome,” Cas says. Then, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Cas hesitates, humming softly. “Why do you always call me?”

Dean frowns, standing up a little straighter. “What?”

“I don’t mind! You’re my best friend, of course I want to help you out and make sure you’re safe,” Cas rushes to clarify. “But I just… when shit goes down, when you’re drunk or scared or upset, shouldn’t…” He swallows. “Shouldn’t you be calling Lisa?”

And Dean has to think about it. Has to remember that, yeah, this whole summer, whenever something went wrong, whenever he needed rescued, Cas was the one he turned to. Even near-blackout-drunk, with Lisa at the same party, Dean had curled up on the floor and called Cas. But he’s never really thought about _why_. True, Cas’s voice is warm and comforting, and Cas is reasonable even when everything else seems to be going to hell.

But Lisa makes Dean feel good too. She’s forgiven Dean for more than most girls would, and cares about him enough to cry over him when he fucks up. She’s smart and funny, and Dean’s never really tried to rely on her the way he relies on Cas, but he’s sure she’d be just as supportive and helpful.

So why _does_ he call Cas?

“I don’t know,” Dean says honestly. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Cas hums again, then changes the subject, trying to put a plan together for the stupid concert. Dean nods along, trying to focus on what Cas is saying, but now that his habit has been pointed out, he can’t help being distracted by it. Especially considering those dreams.

**July 26th, 2006**

“Joanna Beth Harvelle, does your mother know what you did to your hair?”

Jo rolls her eyes as she slides into the backseat next to Sam, tucking the stripe of purple hair behind her ear. “It’s just Kool-Aid, I’ll rinse it out before she ever notices.”

Dean laughs, putting the truck back in drive and heading back up the road. “You know she’ll kill you if she finds out. And God, how much eyeliner does one girl need?” Jo pouts at him when he meets her eyes in the rearview mirror, and he laughs again. “You look like a fucking punk raccoon.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam whispers as they pull onto the highway. “Dean doesn’t know what’s cool. I think you look awesome.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jo says, leaning over to press a kiss to Sam’s cheek, making him blush bright pink. Dean laughs again, slapping the steering wheel.

“You’d think you’d never been kissed by a girl before, Pinky,” he teases. “Or are you just worried about what Sarah’d think?”

Sam scowls at the rearview mirror. “Sarah and I broke up weeks ago, Dean.”

Dean winces and fidgets in his seat. “Oh. Uh. I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Sam says with a shrug, turning back to the window. “We just decided we were better friends.”

Dean bites his lip, struggling to find something else to say, but the silence stretches out too long, so he just turns on the radio instead. Jo groans when Metallica blasts through the speakers, whining, “We’re going to a _Panic! at the Disco_ concert, shouldn’t we listen to, I dunno, _Panic! at the Disco_?”

Dean shushes her. “I have to cleanse my ears before and after exposing them to your bands. Metallica is perfect for this.”

“But Dean-”

“Driver picks the music, backseat shuts her cakehole,” Dean snaps before turning the volume up. It’s a useless effort, considering they pull into the resort’s parking lot just a few seconds later, where Cas is waiting on the curb.

Cas cringes when he opens the door, and reaches for the volume knob as soon as he’s settled in his seat.

“Spoilsport,” Dean mutters, turning around and getting back on the highway. Cas ignores him, turning to say hello to Jo and Sam instead.

“I like your hair,” he says, and Jo can only blush and giggle, covering her face in her hands. Dean laughs at her, shaking his head.

“I said she looks like a punk raccoon,” he comments.

Cas cocks an eyebrow at him. “She’ll fit right in at the concert, I’m sure.”

“So we’re gonna be surrounded by punk raccoons?” Dean groans. “This is gonna be worse than I thought.”

It’s an hour’s drive to Portland, and although Dean never really lets up on teasing Jo and Sam, or complaining about the concert, the truth is he’s actually kind of excited. His punishment is over, and however much he hates this awful band his friends want to see, at least he’s out of the house with his friends. He can put up with a bunch of twinks in clown make-up for that.

He’s in a damn good mood, actually. When he called Lisa this morning to tell her he was almost out of jail, she’d suggested a few potential date spots, then promised to end the night up on the hill. Mom had been home for lunch and helped him prepare garlic bread grilled cheese. Now Cas is laughing next to him while Jo and Sam cheerfully sing the goddamn door song, trying to overpower Dean’s radio, and the sunset lights the sky on fire behind them. It’s warm and reassuring and Dean loves everything about moments like these.

When they arrive at the theater, Dean’s stuck parking near the back, but no one seems to mind. He’s a little surprised by the line of kids around the venue (most of them, like Jo, with brightly colored hair and heavy eyeliner). He never expected a band of teenage crooners singing about broken hearts to get this much attention.

They find Gabe and Anna already in line, and Gabe quickly confides in Dean that while he doesn’t hate the band, he’s starting to regret agreeing to go with Anna. The reason why becomes apparent when Jo and Anna immediately launch into a possessive sort of trivia challenge revolving around this band, and other bands they both enjoy, names that Dean doesn’t recognize. Even Sam is a little weirded out by this territorial display, and quietly scoots away from both girls, into the blackjack circle that Dean has formed with Gabe and Cas.

After the doors open and the crowd has piled into the theater, Dean helps pull everyone as deep into the mass of teenagers as he can. They end up situated center stage, a few feet away from the barrier, which delights both Jo and Anna.

When the first opening band comes on, they’re the exact opposite of what Dean expected. A pretty blonde girl plays piano and shares singing duties with the ginger man on guitar, and it’s closer to folk rock than emo. Dean catches himself bobbing his head, and when he notices Anna singing along, he asks her about the band.

She freezes, clearly blushing, and Dean remembers what Cas had said at Jo’s birthday party, about Anna wanting to marry him. He can’t help giving her his most charming smile. “Um,” Anna stutters, turning to keep her eyes on the stage. “They’re called the Hush Sound. I can, um…” She bites her lower lip. “I can burn you copies of their CDs if you want?”

“I’d like that,” Dean says, leaning in to ensure she hears him. She hides her face in her hands, and suddenly there’s an elbow digging into Dean’s ribs. He turns to see Cas frowning at him, shaking his head.

“Don’t tease her,” he insists, and Dean laughs.

The next band is a little weird, the drummer in clown make-up and the female singer with flowers in her wild hair. This is a bit more in line with the kind of bullshit Dean was expecting to put up with, but both Cas and Gabe seem intrigued by the peculiar performance, so Dean keeps his commentary to himself.

The lights go up as that weird little band exits the stage, and the roadies come in to clear their equipment. Conversation buzzes through the crowd, punctuated by the occasional scream or chant from over-excited girls. Jo and Anna have managed to befriend each other once again, chattering to themselves about set lists and stage decorations and costumes. Dean turns to Cas, about to ask if he wants to go buy a few bottles of water, when he feels his phone start vibrating in his pocket. When he pulls it out, the name on the screen makes his blood run cold.

“It’s Alastair,” he hisses when he notices Cas watching him curiously. Cas raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“Don’t answer it.”

“But-”

“Dean, seriously, just don’t-” But Cas cuts himself off with a frustrated noise when Dean flips the phone open and holds it to his ear.

“What do you want?” Dean says into the phone. Alastair just laughs, like Dean’s attempt to break away is amusing to him.

“Wanted to see if you were bold enough to sneak away tonight, that’s all, Dean-o. You don’t have to be rude.”

“Can’t. Busy.”

“Busy?” Alastair hums. “Does that mean Mama’s Good Boy isn’t being punished anymore?”

Dean winces and turns to Cas with a pleading look. Cas sighs, pulls Gabe close to whisper something in his ear, then grabs Dean by the elbow and starts pulling him out of the crowd. Dean stammers into the phone as they push through the consuming mass of teenagers, until things start to clear up and Dean can breathe again, feel cool air on his skin.

“I’m in Portland, so no dice,” Dean manages to say. Cas closes his eyes, his lips in a tight line as he runs a hand through his hair.

“So you _are_ free now? Good, I’ll expect you tomorrow night then.”

Dean meets Cas’s eyes, and Cas’s expression softens before he sighs. “Tell him you want out,” Cas says. Dean shakes his head, covering the mouthpiece with his hand.

“I can’t do that. I can’t break the deal.”

“Dean, he’s not going to do anything,” Cas insists. He puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and it’s steadying, comforting, all at once, enough that Dean can take a few deep breaths. “I promise you. Tell him you’re done and hang up.”

Dean breathes for a little while longer, then closes his eyes and removes his hand from the mouthpiece. “I won’t be at the party tomorrow night,” Dean says, “or ever again. I want out.”

Silence. Then, in that low, lilting voice, “Are you sure? Think of all your loved ones, Dean. Isn’t their well-being important to you?”

Dean opens his eyes and looks at Cas, panicked. Of course his family and friends are important to him, of course he wants them to be safe and happy, he can deal with all this bullshit, hell, he can even deal with no one wanting to be around him anymore, as long as they’re all okay.

But he meets Cas’s eyes, and while they’re not the same electric blue he sees in his dreams and draws in his sketchbook, there’s still a strength and a power in them, a well that Dean can draw from. So when Cas nods reassuringly, Dean takes a deep breath. “I quit,” he says into the phone. “I’m done. That’s it. Good-bye.”

And he hangs up.

He worries the phone in his hands for a moment, but Cas puts one of his hands over Dean’s, stilling them until Dean can meet his eyes again. “I told Gabe to call me after the show,” Cas says quietly, as if attempting to calm a wounded animal. “We’ll meet up with them before we leave. So you can turn your phone off, if you want to.”

Dean exhales in a rush and hurries to power his phone down, sticking it back in his pocket, then leaning against the wall to try and catch his breath, try and ease all the anxiety in his head.

Because he did it. He finally cut ties with Alastair. And on the one hand, he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to play these violent games anymore, doesn’t have to risk becoming his father. On the other hand, how will this affect the people he loves?

Cas settles in against the wall next to Dean, their shoulders touching but nothing more. Dean turns to take in his friend’s profile, the set of his jaw and angle of his nose. Hopefully, Cas is right, and Alastair is just blowing hot air. Hopefully, Alastair will just replace Dean with someone more willing, and Dean can take his life back.

Dean drops his head onto Cas’s shoulder and mumbles, “Thank you.”

The lights go out just then, and the hundreds of kids in the crowd in front of them start to scream, pushing as close to the stage as they can get. Four guys in weird costumes walk to their instruments, followed by a pair of dancers in corsets, and an odd little man dressed as a ringmaster, his smile painted in green. A piano riff starts to play, quickly joined by electric guitar and a creepy keyboard sample. Dean rolls his eyes where no one can see; what a crock of pompous bullshit. Who needs this kind of stage show? People who can’t really make music, that’s who.

“ _Ladies and Gentlemen_ ,” the ringmaster says into a microphone, “ _tonight we offer you a picturesque score of passing folly_.”

The singer, in his weird frilly shirt, starts singing and the crowd goes wild. It’s a simplistic rock beat with rapid, pretentious lyrics, and Dean is thoroughly unimpressed. But, he can feel Cas’s shoulder bouncing, hear Cas singing along under his breath, and Dean lifts his head, grinning.

“You really do like this band, don’t you?” he teases. Cas turns to him, squinting, and when the song goes into a brief bass solo, Cas grins back and pushes away from the wall.

“C’mon, Dean,” he says, shoving at Dean’s shoulder. “They’re great dance songs. So let’s dance.” He makes an awkward movement with his shoulders, trailing down to his hips, and Dean laughs aloud. “I won’t tell.”

Dean shakes his head, but Cas keeps shuffling his feet, trying to keep up with the rhythm. He’s clearly trying to cheer Dean up after that phone call, and the terrible part is, it’s working.

So finally, Dean gives in. He steps away from the wall and grabs Cas’s forearms, laughing and spinning him around.

The band never really slows down. Every song has an upbeat tempo in a minor key, and it’s easy for Dean and Cas to lose themselves in the beat, to forget what just happened in that phone call. Dean even forgets that he’s supposed to hate this band by the time they cover [“Tonight, Tonight” by the Smashing Pumpkins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iosnvKSBIo). The singer goes off-key once or twice, but the song still strikes a chord in Dean. He can feel his chest swell and expand with the changing notes, and the lyrics linger in his head like neon lights.

“ _Believe, believe in me, believe that life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain_.”

Dean and Cas don’t dance to this song, instead staring intently at the stage, where the dancers have pulled out giant white fans that look like wings as they spin. This digs into Dean’s brain too, dragging out those shallowly buried dreams of Cas, naked except for coal-black wings, and Dean inhales sharply.

“ _And you know you’re never sure, but you’re sure you could be right if you held yourself up to the light_.”

Cas is staring at Dean now, as if he’s never seen him before, and Dean stares right back. They’re surrounded by people, but for all they care, they’re alone in the world, deep in a haze underscored by the crooning voice of a boy only two years their senior. Cas’s eyes are wide, his face illuminated in a rainbow of colors: pink and blue and purple, striking the shadows in his cheekbones and chin. His hair is limp with sweat, a bird’s nest from spinning and head-banging and laughing like an idiot. His t-shirt hasn’t fared much better, soaked under his arms and at his collar and just under his chest, which rises and falls with heavy breaths.

His lips are parted and pink.

He’s gorgeous. And Dean wants to kiss him.

But there are so many people here, strangers who could laugh or jeer, and what if Sam or Gabe or Anna or Jo stumbles out of the crowd just in time to catch them? Not to mention, Cas doesn’t really want Dean to kiss him. And he’s got something going on with Bela, which Dean has never been brave enough to ask for clarification on. And Lisa, of course. He’s already kissed Cas twice while in a relationship with Lisa, and at some point the line has to be drawn, even if they don’t mean anything.

Dean takes a deep breath, as if preparing to say something, but there are no words waiting in his throat, so he bites his lip instead. Instinct says to avert his eyes, start dancing again or make a rude comment about the singer’s voice cracking, anything to distract from this intense staredown. But Dean can’t.

“ _Believe, believe in me, believe in the resolute urgency of now_.”

“Fuck,” Cas says, under his breath, and with the music permeating the air, bass drum and cymbals ringing in Dean’s ears, Dean is a little surprised he heard it at first. Then he realizes: he heard it because Cas had moved closer, had his hands cupping Dean’s face and cursed just before pressing their lips together.

Oh.

So much for the ‘Cas Doesn’t Want To’ theory.

  
(artwork by [linneart](http://linneart.tumblr.com))

There are conflicting voices in Dean’s head, screaming at him about Lisa, about all the people around them, about their siblings and friends being in that crowd, but the screaming quickly dies down to a flail and a whisper, because Dean’s heart turns over in his chest and he can’t help pressing against Cas, closing his eyes, and accepting the kiss for what it is, drinking it in before they both come back to their senses.

Because while Dean finds Cas’s voice and his logic and his dry sense of humor comforting, a kiss is ten times better. Lisa never has to know.

“ _The indescribable moments of your life, tonight_.”

Cas fumbles a little, his hands falling to Dean’s chest and gripping at his shirt, which makes Dean laugh, mouth moving to Cas’s chin, where there’s stubble dragging against his lips. It’s a weird, but not unpleasant sensation.

“ _The impossible is possible tonight_.”

The spell isn’t quite broken, but Cas pulls back just enough to squint at Dean, studying his face intently, like Dean is a particularly rare and unstable animal. The expression makes Dean laugh again, moving his hand to Cas’s shoulder, squeezing gently. This startles Cas, but the surprise only registers for a split second before Cas has schooled his face back into something serious.

“Don’t forget, Dean,” he says.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Forget what?”

Cas shrugs. “No homo.”

Dean blinks, then starts to laugh so hard he doubles over, clutching Cas’s shoulder to keep himself upright. Cas grips Dean’s shoulder in return, holding him steady, but Dean can hear him chuckling too.

_“Believe in me, ‘cause I believe in you tonight.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, not so long this time! Made it about a week or two earlier :) And the last chapter hopefully shouldn't take so long: it's mostly action, and I have a good half of it already written in my head. Also, Young Volcanoes was giving me more to go with than the DCBB so I had to drop out, unfortunately :( Maybe next year! 
> 
> The last scene is my gift to you guys, considering, well... let's just say, if you cried at the end of You And I (Collide), you're _definitely_ going to cry at the end of this one, lol. I also I have ideas for two interludes, but I only one has the potential to go up between now and the last chapter (the other one is from Lisa's POV and has a big spoiler for the last chapter, so will have to wait until it's done). So keep an eye out! It'll be from Charlie's POV!
> 
> As always, thank you guys for reading! Please let me know what you think, and pass the word around about this story if you like it! The bigger the audience, the faster I write!


	4. Such a Mournful Sound

“ _How could you know?_  
 _Why would you care?_  
 _I’m losing control_  
 _Are you getting scared?_ ”

\- “ **The Kids Are All Fucked Up** ,” Cobra Starship

 

**July 30th, 2006**

Lisa’s hand is wrapped up in Dean’s, their fingers interlaced as they swing in the air between them. The sky is dark and the ocean is darker, the tide coming in high enough to leave seaweed and silt around their bare feet as they walk. There’s a cool breeze coming in, gently shifting Lisa’s hair and the orange ribbon tied just behind her ear.

This is the kind of moment where Dean thinks that maybe he should go ahead and tell Lisa he loves her. Because in moments like these, he’s pretty sure he does. When she’s smiling softly at nothing, her honey-brown eyes trying to take in as much of the scenery as they can - Dean included.

He actually opens his mouth this time, but the words catch in his throat when a series of images flickers through his brain: Cas wide-eyed and four inches shorter out in the woods behind the school; Cas barefoot in his pajamas, smelling of peppermint; Cas nudging Bela and telling her to leave Dean alone; Cas’s face lit up in pink and green lights, carefully studying Dean’s expression.

The truth is, Dean is confused. He can’t tell himself that he doesn’t like kissing Cas anymore. Not after what happened at the concert. He knows he’s not gay, though, regardless of both the real-life kisses and the dream sex, so he’s not sure what’s happening. He’d rather not think about it, honestly.

But he also feels like he can’t tell Lisa he loves her if he’s been kissing or dreaming about someone else. That’s not how love works.

Right?

So Dean sighs instead, and Lisa turns to him, still smiling. “This is really nice, Dean,” she says softly, as if afraid of ruining the moment.

Dean chuckles. “I know I’m no Casanova, but I can come up with romantic ideas sometimes.”

“That you can.” Lisa squeezes Dean’s hand. “I missed you.”

And Dean’s smile is easy and genuine. “I missed you too, babe.”

They continue walking along the shoreline in silence for a few more moments, enjoying the atmosphere and each other’s proximity. Then Lisa gently knocks her shoulder against Dean’s bicep and smirks up at him. “How was Jo’s party?”

Dean frowns, quickly averting his eyes as he tries to figure out what to tell Lisa and what not to tell her. Obviously he can’t tell her about all the weird dreams he’s been having, but maybe he won’t feel so guilty if he at least lets her know about the kiss.

“It was fun,” Dean says slowly, opting out of details. “Charlie put some good games together.”

Lisa raises an eyebrow and slaps Dean’s arm. “Don’t hold back now,” she scolds. “I actually feel really bad for missing it, so spill.”

Dean takes a deep breath, then decides to just rip the band-aid off. “We played a kissing game.”

Lisa stops walking. She clings to Dean’s hand, tugging him back when he pretends he doesn’t notice, and he tries to smile cheerfully at her, but she just looks so stricken that his smile falls.

“Did you kiss somebody else?” She asks quietly, eyes searching Dean’s face. He’s a little surprised by how obviously hurt she is, just at the thought, but now that he knows for sure how she feels, he can’t keep lying to her.

“Yeah,” he says, averting his eyes. Her grip tightens. “It was a guy, though. If that helps.”

Lisa furrows her brow. “A guy?”

Dean nods. “Charlie thought it’d be more fun if we didn’t discriminate.”

Lisa peers at him, her expression so like Cas’s that Dean would laugh under different circumstances. “ _You_ ,” Lisa says, “kissed a _guy_.” Dean just shrugs, unsure of how to respond, and that’s when she does the strangest thing.

She laughs.

And it’s real, because her eyes are bright again, crinkled in the corners because of her wide, white smile. She leans over to press a light kiss to a dumbfounded Dean’s mouth, then starts walking again, leading him along behind her.

“Who was it?” Lisa asks, suddenly excited. Dean doesn’t even get the chance to answer before she says, “Was it Garth? Oh, or Ash?” She cackles, putting her free hand over her mouth. “God, I’d pay money to see it. Would you do it again if I- _oh my God_ ,” she gasps, tugging hard on Dean’s hand. “Was it _Victor_?”

Now her laughter is wild, pleased, and when she releases Dean’s hand to rub both of her own over her face, Dean finds himself laughing with her. It’s a relief to have this weight off his shoulders, to know that she thinks this is funny. Maybe it is funny. Maybe none of this is anything to worry about.

Dean chuckles, running a hand through her hair, adjusting the ribbon over her ear. “Better,” he says. “It was Cas.”

Lisa stops laughing.

Slowly, she lowers her hands until her round eyes are situated above her fingertips. The wind rustles her hair, and silence falls heavy around them, bringing with it Dean’s guilt, now a thousand times heavier. He stares back at her, confused, trying to understand what’s gone wrong.

“Cas?” Lisa mumbles, fingers folding into fists, tucked under her chin. “You kissed _Cas_?”

Dean blinks. “Yeah,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s _wrong_?” Lisa throws her hands down, and with the wrinkle between her eyes and the solid set of her shoulders, Dean knows for sure that she’s angry now. “You kissed someone else! You’re only supposed to be kissing me, but you kissed _Cas_!”

“It was funny when you thought it was Victor!” Dean argues, following as she takes off across the sand. “What the hell’s the difference?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what the difference is,” Lisa snaps, not even turning to look at him. “Stop fucking following me, I’m going home.”

“But I _don’t_ know what the difference is!” Dean is practically pleading here, and when they reach the steps that will lead them back to the boardwalk, he grabs her wrist, trying to pull her back and make her listen. “Don’t be mad, please, Lisa, it wasn’t my fault!”

“Why the hell would you play a kissing game when you’re in a relationship, Dean?” Lisa says, struggling to get Dean to let her go. “Why would you even put yourself in a position where this could-”

“It was Charlie’s idea!” Dean blurts. Lisa rolls her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m serious!” And it’s not Dean’s secret to tell, he knows that deep down, but he’s also desperate to make Lisa understand. He can’t lose her, especially not over Cas. “Charlie’s gay. A lesbian. She wanted to kiss Jo, but she wanted me to kiss Cas first so that people wouldn’t be dicks and freak Jo out.” Lisa is silent, outside of her heavy breaths, as she stares down at Dean. “That’s the gospel truth, I swear.”

Lisa takes a step down, and at her height it’s just enough that she can meet Dean’s eyes without looking up at him. She twists her wrist just so, forcing him to release her, and tightens her jaw as she leans into Dean’s space.

“Why did it have to be _Cas_?” she demands, voice low and dangerous. Dean blinks, and his brain shuts down. He knows he had a good reason to suggest Cas, but he can’t think of what it is when Lisa is staring him down like this. And it doesn’t help to remember that _he_ had suggested Cas - if he’d just listened to Charlie and kissed Victor, maybe he and Lisa would be naked in the back of his truck by now.

Dean opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Lisa huffs a little breath and rolls her eyes.

“Don’t call me,” she says as she turns back around and storms up the stairs. Dean takes a step after her, but stops himself when she hits the boardwalk and starts to run. A part of him desperately wants to chase her down, make her listen, maybe kiss her and try to prove how much he cares about her. The more rational part of him recognizes that that is probably a bad idea, and maybe she does just need a little space.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temples. He should’ve just kept his big mouth shut.

 

**July 31st, 2006**

“And she just… walked off.” Dean shrugs, staring forlornly into his empty glass before pushing it away and dropping his head onto the table. “I dunno what to do.”

A strong hand falls onto his back, gently rubbing up and down along his spine, and he knows it’s Cas without having to look. He should shrug him off. He should scoot away. Hell, when he arrived at the Roadhouse, he should have gone ahead and squeezed in next to Charlie and Jo, really drove the message home by leaving Cas all alone on his side of the booth.

But he didn’t do that. And he won’t move away from Cas’s comfort either. Because something is wrong with him. Even though Lisa made her feelings very clear, and even though Dean knows there are lines being crossed that take his relationship with Cas away from platonicism, he can’t pull away. There’s something about Cas that he _needs_.

The hard part is figuring out where that fits in with his love for Lisa.

A smaller hand touches his arm, and Dean lifts his head to see Charlie’s stricken look. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Dean takes a deep breath, and sits up before winking at her.

“Not your fault,” he says. Charlie’s eyes dart towards Jo before she withdraws her hand, shoulders still stiff. Dean really doesn’t think of it as Charlie’s problem, since he was the one who led the conversation towards Cas, but he can’t bring that up here. Not with Jo and Cas sitting right there. “Seriously, Charlie,” Dean says with a sigh. “Don’t go around thinking it’s your fault.”

Charlie gives him a wan smile, then turns to stare out the window. The way the hair around her ears flutters when she moves is entrancing, makes Dean’s hands itch for a pencil, to try and capture the movement. He wonders if Lisa’s hair moves that way, then wonders why he doesn’t already know.

Dean sighs again, now morosely resting his chin in his hand. “Y’know what the weirdest part is?” He says. Charlie doesn’t move, but Cas’s hand stills between his shoulders, and Jo politely leans closer over the table, the fading purple stripe of hair falling off her shoulder. “When I told her I’d kissed a guy, she thought it was hilarious. Saying she’d pay to see it.”

Dean turns to look at Cas. “She only got mad when I told her which guy I’d kissed.”

Cas stares back at him, eyebrows furrowing. He drops his hand, putting it back on the table, and Dean can practically see the gears whirring and clicking in Cas’s head as he mulls over this information. Hopefully, he can figure it out better than Dean, who still doesn’t understand the difference.

“I can talk to her, if you want,” Cas offers.

Jo’s lips part in surprise, but she quickly covers it up. Charlie is less successful, her head immediately whipping around to stare at Cas with wide, hazel eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again when Dean shifts in his seat. Dean is more surprised at the offer than anyone, but he covers it up better, staring Cas down. Cas doesn’t wilt, however. In fact, he almost seems to sit taller under Dean’s curious gaze.

“What would you talk to her about?” Dean asks carefully. Cas’s eyes dart sideways, landing on Jo for a second, before coming back to Dean.

“I just think that, if I’m the issue, she might be more receptive to hearing the truth from me.”

Dean’s eyebrows climb towards his hairline. “The truth?”

Cas closes his eyes and lets out a slow, deliberate breath. Then he opens his eyes and smiles beatifically at Dean. Dean doesn’t like it - Cas only smiles like that at other people. At people he’s trying to distract.

He’s never smiled at Dean that way.

“Just trust me, Dean,” Cas says. His voice is pitched low, with just a hint of amusement. As if he knows something Dean doesn’t, and that just makes Dean bristle and distrust this plan all the more.

But what choice does he have?

“All right,” Dean grumbles with a pout. “But I swear to God, man, if you steal my girlfriend-”

“ _Please_ ,” Cas spits, rolling his eyes and turning back to the table, bringing the rest of the world back into existence around them. And that’s close enough to the Cas he knows that Dean is able to settle.

 

**August 2nd, 2006**

Dean’s in the middle of making dinner when his phone goes off. He frowns to himself before leaning over to check the name on the screen.

It’s Lisa.

Forget hands covered in butter and flour. Dean hastily flips his phone open and puts it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Dean!” She almost sounds surprised that he answered. “Dean, baby, I’m so sorry for how I acted the other night.”

Dean blinks. His mouth drops open, but he says nothing.

So Lisa plows on. “I know, it was just a game and you were just trying to help Charlie out, and honestly, I just feel stupid.” She laughs, and if it’s a little manic, then Dean’s nice enough to pretend he doesn’t notice. “Cas is your best friend, and a _guy,_  so what do I have to be jealous of? In fact, I’m actually glad that you have him. He looks out for you.”

Dean blinks again. Jealous? Wait. “Did Cas come by your place, then?”

“Yeah! Made everything crystal clear.”

This is such a flip that Dean’s not sure how to take it. He hadn’t expected Lisa to even let Cas in her front door, let alone listen to what he had to say. Still, he can’t argue with the results.

“So. We’re better now?”

“Sure. As long as you promise not to kiss him again.” She laughs again, but it’s colder somehow, and Dean has to wonder exactly how much truth Cas decided to divulge.

“Of course,” Dean says, trying to play along. “Why would I kiss Cas when I have you?”

Lisa is silent for a moment before she hums softly into the phone. “Well. Since we’re made up. What are you doing tonight?”

There’s still butter and flour on Dean’s hands, and now it’s all over his phone and his face. “Um. Making dinner.”

“For Sam?”

“No. He’s hanging out at the boardwalk with his friends tonight.”

“And your mom is working?”

Oh.

Dean starts to smile, leaning against the counter. “Why do you ask?”

“Well. How hungry are you, really?”

“Starving.” She giggles, and it feels weird, awkward, forced, but Dean tries anyway. “What if you came over and we had dessert first?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lisa practically purrs. And Dean’s pretty sure this isn’t supposed to feel so fucking _awkward_. But if Lisa is up for make-up sex, well, who is Dean to tell her no?

 

**August 3rd, 2006**

The room is white again, but when Dean is coherent enough, he notices the way the blankets and the canopy and the curtains shift to different shades of red as they move. Scarlet, carmine, ruby, vermillion. Dean just laughs and pulls Cas’s mouth back against his own, drinking in his kisses like a fountain, like crystal water, and they’re both lust drunk, skin flushed pink and pretty.

Because really, the prettiest shade of red in the room is the shade of Cas’s cockhead as it rests against the planes of Dean’s stomach, as Cas gently moves his hips back and forth, dragging his cock over Dean’s skin and teasing Dean’s with the heat between his ass cheeks, and the unspoken promise of what’s to come. It’s all Dean can do to hold onto Cas’s thighs and let him do as he pleases, let him laugh whenever Dean groans in frustration, tries to buck against Cas’s weight.

“In time,” Cas promises, pressing his lips to the cord of Dean’s neck. “I’ll let you in, in time.”

Back and forth, Cas goes, Round and round, like a carousel, like he has all the time in the world and isn’t driving Dean crazy. There’s wetness on Dean’s abs, where Cas’s cock is sliding, and Dean’s hips make an abortive move, because this is just unreal.

“Maybe,” Cas drawls, casual as a picnic on a summer day, “after I let you fuck me, maybe I can return the favor.” With a wicked smile, Cas leans down to nibble at Dean’s earlobe, whispering. “D’you ever think about that? About me inside you? ‘Cause I promise, Dean,” and Cas’s cheshire smile stretches when Dean turns to stare at him, and there’s so much heat _everywhere_.

“It’s all I ever think about,” Cas purrs.

Dean moans so loud he wakes himself up.

Sunlight pours in through the little window near the ceiling, and when Dean turns his head, he can still smell Lisa’s perfume on his pillow, and the lingering scent of sweat and sex. He pushes all images of Cas far out of his head as he reaches under the blankets to grip his cock. Instead, he remembers Lisa spread out on his bed, the way she bit her lip and clung to him as he pistoned inside her. He comes when he thinks of the way she wrapped her legs around his waist and whimpered, and honestly, it’s a bit of a relief to know that he can still jack off while thinking of his girlfriend.

Because it’s weird to have recurring sex dreams about Cas. And it’s weirder still to have them just after having sex with Lisa. But at least he can fantasize about Lisa and get off thinking about her. And at least he still enjoys actual sex with her.

So maybe these dreams are just the result of confused and overactive hormones after all. Nothing to worry about.

Dean sits up and stares blearily at the clock on his desk until the numbers come into focus. Just after eleven. He doesn’t have to work today, and he really should do something nice for Cas. To thank him for helping out with Lisa.

The dream-version of Cas’s dick suddenly appears in Dean’s mind, and he shakes his head back and forth like a dog, trying to get rid of it. The curve and the shade and the shine were _not_ beautiful, and Dean truly, definitely, absolutely, does _not_ want to draw it right this second. It’s creepy enough he keeps drawing Kyriel with Cas’s face, he doesn’t need to start sketching some pretty dream-version of his best friend’s naked body.

Even more pressing: he doesn’t need to start thinking that cocks are pretty.

Dean rubs his eyes with one hand, groaning. Maybe he does need to distance himself from Cas for a little while.

But he already has his cell in his other hand, and by the time he realizes he’s dialed Cas’s number, it’s too late to stop himself.

The call goes to voicemail after two rings. Dean stares stupidly at his phone for a moment, then ends the call and redials. Same results. Dean checks the clock again, and yes, just a few minutes after eleven. He knows Cas is up by now, because he knows that Cas likes to get up at dawn and go running through town while it’s still quiet.

Dean calls one more time, and leaves a brief voicemail asking if Cas wants to hang out and to call him back.

When an hour passes and Dean’s upstairs putting together turkey sandwiches for Sam and himself, his phone is out on the counter, and Dean checks it obsessively.

Three hours after that, Cas still hasn’t called back.

By the time Mary stops by for a quick dinner before her shift at the Roadhouse, Dean has called six more times and left two more messages with no response. He’s genuinely worried, but doesn’t say a word to Mary or Sam.

As Dean sits on the couch after dark, watching Dr. Sexy re-runs with his phone on the cushion next to him, he has to laugh at himself. Of course he could never actually stay away from Cas. Not on his own. Look at what a wreck he is now.

Dean laughs again, then sighs. He’s such a joke. Just a pathetic, weird, waste of space. He’s cut off from Cas for a day, and he’s already starting to lose it. That’s not normal.

Dean’s not sure what it is, but he knows it’s not normal.

 

**August 4th, 2006**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**12:31pm**

**hey have u hrd from cas??**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**12:31pm**

**no y?**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**12:32pm**

**his # goes to voicemail, can’t get a response**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**12:32pm**

**i’m worried**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**12:36pm**

**just called, no answer. let u no if he calls back!**

\-----

**From: Dean**   
**To: Joanna Beth**   
**1:04pm**

**have u hrd from cas????**

**From: Joanna Beth**   
**To: Dean**   
**1:16pm**

**@rdhouse wht’s up?**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Joanna Beth**   
**1:17pm**

**charlie & i can’t get a hold of cas cn u?**

**From: Joanna Beth**   
**To: Dean**   
**1:34pm**

**went str8 2 voicemail???? left a msg tho!!**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Joanna Beth**   
**1:35pm**

**let me kno if he calls back pls**

**From: Joanna Beth**   
**To: Dean**   
**1:43pm**

**np**

\-----

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:52pm**

**still nothing from cas**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**11:53pm**

**its weird rite?**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:53pm**

**totes weird. hope he’s ok**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**11:55pm**

**shld i go2 resort? check on him???**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:56pm**

**would they let u in?**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**11:56pm**

**cas gave me the code & his room #**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**11:56pm**

**im really worried**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:57pm**

**i kno bt dont b rash ok???**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:59pm**

**need 2 talk? or i cn go with u**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**   
**12:00am**

**m/b 2mrw - gonna sleep on it**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**12:01am**

**good idea. nite captain**

**From: Bones**   
**To: Dean**   
**12:01am**

**dw hes tough hes ok im sure**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Bones**

**thx charlie. nite.**

**August 6th, 2006**

Dinner at the Roadhouse was Charlie’s idea.

For some reason, she seems more worried about Dean than about Cas, who hasn’t been in contact with anyone in the Goonies’ circle since he spoke to Lisa the other day. Dean is officially a wreck. He drove down to the resort yesterday, but was stopped at the elevator - Cas had never mentioned that the visitor code changed regularly. When Dean tried asking for access to the Milton’s suite, he was sneered at and talked down to, told that if he was really allowed access, then he’d have the visitor’s code.

So Dean is anxious, constantly checking his phone and ripping his napkin to shreds on the table at the Roadhouse. Lisa is packed in on his left, next to the window, watching him fidget with concern in her eyes. Charlie is on his other side, trying to engage him in a discussion about how absolutely terrible the new Superman movie was, about Tim Sale’s artwork in Long Halloween, about anything that might effectively distract Dean.

None of it takes.

Jo, Pam, and Garth are packed in the other side of the table, and they engage with Charlie and Lisa, but everyone keeps giving Dean these little glances. And he knows. He’s not himself right now. Normally, this would be his element. Surrounded by friends and food, this is Dean’s favorite way to be.

But normally, Cas would be here too.

Lisa puts her hand on Dean’s back, trailing her fingers up and down his spine. She smiles when Dean turns to look at her, but the smile drops like a stone when Dean pulls away from her touch. She tucks her hands in her lap, frowning at Dean with hurt painting her features, but how can he possibly explain that that gesture just reminds him of Cas?

Because Dean’s not stupid. He’s fully aware now of how very _weird_ his relationship with Cas is. He doesn’t know what it means, that they kiss and touch the way they do, even though Dean has a girlfriend, and Cas has whatever it is he has with Bela. But that’s the way it is, and whether or not it makes sense, Dean’s not willing to give it up.

He’s not willing to give _Cas_ up.

But after the way Lisa reacted when Dean told her about the kiss at Jo’s party, and now that he suspects Cas told her about the other kisses, he can’t tell her these things. It doesn’t help that he can’t really explain the nature of his and Cas’s friendship. It just is what it is, and Lisa doesn’t have to understand it. She doesn’t have to know about it.

He’s not willing to give Lisa up either. There has to be a way to preserve both relationships.

Charlie nudges Dean gently, giving him a bright smile when he turns to look at her. “What do you say we throw a party?” she says, trying too hard to be cheerful. “Just like Jo’s, but out on the beach. That’d be fun, right?”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “What, you think that’d draw Cas out of hiding or something?”

“Or something,” Charlie shrugs.

Lisa laughs softly, resting her chin in her hands. “As long as you don’t rig anymore kissing games, it might be fun.”

Suddenly, Dean’s not worried about Cas anymore. He turns to stare at Lisa, even as everyone else at the table stares at him.

Of course, it’s Pam who breaks the silence: “Dean, you rigged the game... to kiss Cas?” And she doesn’t sound surprised. In fact, by the end of the question, it almost sounds like she’s putting puzzle pieces together.

Honestly, Dean is happy to leave them thinking that that’s it. The whole point of his kiss with Cas was to take attention away from Charlie’s wish to kiss Jo, and if that means sticking with the scheme even at this point, if it means his friends look at him a little differently, then he’ll take it. For Charlie’s sake.

But for some reason, Lisa can’t help correcting her: “No, he only did it for Charlie, so she could-”

“Lisa,” Dean hisses, “shut _up_.”

It’s too late, though. Now everyone’s attention has turned to Charlie, who has shrunk in her seat, hands over her face. It’s immediately clear that Dean is the only person at this table she had shared her secret with, and he can practically see the wheels turning in Jo’s head. Her eyes are narrowing, cheeks turning ruddy red, as her eyes dart between Dean and Charlie.

“You set me up?” Jo says, and it’s practically a snarl. Charlie stays curled in on herself, her hands inching up towards her hair. Jo turns to Dean, then, and this time it’s definitely a snarl when she says, “Both of you?”

Dean holds his hands up, trying to placate her. “It was just a game, Jo-”

“No it wasn’t, Dean,” Jo says, slamming a hand on the table. Pam inches away from her, exchanging a glance with Garth. “That was my _first_ kiss, the two of you _tricked_ me, and I don’t get it _back_!”

This fight sounds familiar, and Dean rubs his hand over his mouth before reaching across the table towards Jo. “It’s not that important, Jo, it doesn’t have to mean _anything_.”

Charlie finally lifts her head, and her hazel eyes are drowning in hurt, but Jo just scoffs. “Don’t bullshit me, Dean,” she says, standing up. “The kiss itself isn’t as important as the fact that if you had _talked_ to me,” and now she’s caught Charlie’s eye, “who knows what could have happened? But you didn’t do that. You went to _Dean_ and figured something out behind my back.” Jo tightens her jaw and shakes her head. “That’s not how friendship works.”

“Jo,” Dean says, but Jo just shakes her head again and storms away from the table. Charlie’s breath hitches, and she wipes the dampness from her eyes before chasing after her, yelling Jo’s name as she slams through the door.

Dean turns to Lisa, who flinches under his gaze. Faintly, he can hear Garth and Pam whispering to each other, then sliding out of the booth, and Lisa’s eyes watch them go. Dean just watches Lisa.

“I thought she knew,” Lisa says softly, meeting Dean’s eyes. “I swear, you guys are all so close, I never thought you’d keep it a secret.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean mutters. “How could you…” But he trails off, putting his head in his hands as an ache forms at his temples. It’s hard to be angry at Lisa for letting the cat out of the bag when Dean was the one who put the cat there in the first place. _He_ manipulated Jo, he worked behind her back to _trick_ her, what right does he have to be mad at _Lisa_ for letting her know what he’d done?

An empty, gnawing feeling grows in Dean’s stomach, climbing up into his chest and out through his arms and shoulders. He’s a terrible friend, setting Jo up like that. He’s a worse boyfriend, kissing Cas all the time. He’s a shitty, untrained artist and a poor student and he didn’t even know his little brother had broken up with his first girlfriend. What good is he for other people? Even when he tries to help, tries to get better, he fucks everything up.

Lisa carefully touches his shoulder, but he shakes her off and slides out of the booth. He stops at the edge of the table, wanting to say something, anything, but the words don’t come. So he just runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head, and heads for the door. The check is unimportant - if Ellen decides she wants Dean to pay, she’ll find a way to make him. Right now, Dean just needs a breath of fresh air, and maybe to take a long, meandering drive.

His phone is out and pressed to his ear before he even reaches his truck. It rings twice, then goes to voicemail, and that’s when Dean realizes he’d called Cas, and God, why does he do that? Without even thinking about it?

But it doesn’t matter, since Cas isn’t answering, and Dean doesn’t know how to find him.

He climbs into the driver’s seat and slams the door, then turns back to his phone, anxiously flipping it open and closed.

He could really use a drink right now. Maybe release a little stress on some doped up idiot.

Alastair’s number is still listed in his contacts.

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. In through his mouth, out through his nose. Slow and careful. It doesn’t drive that empty feeling away, but it does help him think clearly enough to set his phone aside and start the truck. He’d only feel worse about himself if he ended up crawling back Alastair less than two weeks after ending their deal. Not to mention the promises he made to his mother and Sam.

But it’s a close call.

 

**August 10th, 2006**

Sam tiptoes past the couch, then tiptoes back and pokes Dean’s arm.

“You awake?” he whispers.

Dean sighs and peels his eyes open, but otherwise doesn’t move. “What.”

“I’m going to kick the ball around with Sarah and Andy, wanna come?”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He reaches for the coffee table, fumbling around until he finally gets a grip on his phone.

“Are you drinking again?” Sam asks in a small voice. Dean sighs again.

“No,” he repeats, but it’s gentler this time. He flips his phone open, expecting nothing, but there’s actually a little icon flashing in the corner of the screen, indicating that he has a new voicemail. Dean sits up, his heartbeat suddenly rapid. It could be from anyone. Good news or bad. Either way, Dean just wants to hear from someone.

Sam fidgets awkwardly for a moment, but when Dean turns to look at him, Sam just waves and hurries out the door. Dean takes a breath and turns back to his phone, holding it up to his ear.

“Hey, Dean, it’s Lisa.” Dean closes his eyes and relaxes back into the couch. He’d been hoping to hear from Lisa, but actually receiving a call from her just makes it clear that he wanted to hear from Charlie or Jo or Cas even more. “I guess you’re at work or something. I mean, I hope you’re not ignoring me? I just, um, just wanted to say that I’ve talked to Jo and Charlie for you. Charlie says you guys are good, and Jo’s still mad but I think she’ll come around. I’ll keep working on her. Um.” She takes a deep breath here, and when she speaks again, it’s soft: “I miss you. I hope you’re okay. Call me back. Okay? Bye.”

Dean deletes the message, then spends a few moments sitting on the couch, rubbing his thumb over the screen. It’s been a few days since the fall out at the Roadhouse, and Dean has spent most of those days curled up on the couch with the TV on for background noise. The gnawing sensation in his chest hasn’t gone away, nor has the whirlwind of self-loathing in his head, but it’s easier to deal with if he doesn’t do anything.

He’s tried calling Cas a few more times, but still hasn’t gotten a response. Now, apparently, it’s Lisa going out, trying to clean up Dean’s messes, and Dean doesn’t like it anymore than he did when Cas was doing it.

But it’s nice of her to try. And none of this is her fault, at the end of the day. It’s Dean’s. And Lisa should know that Dean isn’t angry with her.

So Dean dials Lisa’s number. She answers after one ring and sounds a little breathless when she says, “Hello?”

“Hi, Lis.”

“Dean!” He can practically see her smile, and it makes his heart twist. “I was so worried, I… you got my voicemail, right? You’re not mad at me?”

“No,” he says, trying to be as soothing as possible. “I’m mad at myself, but I’m not mad at you.”

Lisa makes a soft noise of relief. “Good. Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I’m…” Dean’s not okay. He’s far from okay. The temptation to call Alastair is huge and heavy and the only thing keeping him from doing it are the promises he’s made to his mother and Sam. “I’m surviving. How are you?”

“I miss you,” she answers quickly, and she sounds sincere. Lisa always sounds sincere when she talks about her feelings for Dean, and it boggles his mind to think that she could possibly care about him as much as she does.

And suddenly, he misses her too. His heart clenches, and an ache spreads out from his shoulders to his fingertips, and the worst part is that it’s still better than the gnawing emptiness he’s been feeling lately.

“You should come over,” he says.

“Um.”

“Sam’s not here and my mom is working.”

“Oh.” Lisa hums softly. “Well. Okay. Gimme a half hour?”

“Okay. See you.”

And Dean’s off like a shot to make his bed and pick up his floor before she arrives.

\-----

They’re getting better at this. The sex thing.

Dean still makes sure to get Lisa off before he even enters her, but now they’ve reached a point where Lisa actually enjoys that part. Which only makes it better for Dean, considering how much he likes to see her enjoy herself. And he lasts a little longer now, but it’s never long enough to make her come again. Not that he minds; he likes eating her out, and her second orgasm is more intense, her hands clenching in Dean’s hair as she moans.

At least Dean can do this. At least he can make his girlfriend feel good, put that smile on her face. And it makes him feel better, for a time, to hold her and pet her hair and feel all her warm skin against his own. Lisa’s breathing is still heavy, as she nestles into Dean’s chest, and he pulls her closer, buries his nose in her hair and tries to memorize that smell, let it surround him. Sweat and coconut and some kind of floral perfume, but mostly sweat, and that’s okay. As long as she’s here, clinging to him, pressing possessive little kisses against his collar, then everything is okay.

He almost doesn’t hear his phone ringing. When he does notice, he almost ignores it, but Lisa is wiggling against him, pulling away to lay on her back, smiling. She’s comfortable enough that she doesn’t even pull the blankets up, and her nipples peak in the cool air from the overhead fan. Dean stares at her for a moment, trying to memorize this image so he can draw it later, and it’s only when Lisa giggles at him that he remembers his phone is still ringing.

“Stop staring and answer your phone,” Lisa teases.

Dean reaches for her waist and pulls her in to steal a kiss, laughing softly. “Can I draw you?” he asks against her lips. She laughs again, bubbling up from somewhere in her belly.

“Maybe after you answer your phone, Picasso.”

Dean rolls his eyes, then shifts away from her again, reaching for where he’d dropped his pants beside his bed and pulling his phone out of the pocket. “Hello?” he says, not bothering to look at the screen.

“Dean? Oh thank God.”

Dean bolts upright, nearly falling off the bed. “Cas?”

Lisa shifts next to him, and when Dean glances at her, she’s pulled the blanket up over her chest and is staring pointedly at the ceiling.

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I-”

“Where the hell have you been, Cas?” There’s a headache forming at Dean’s temples, so he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve… we’ve been worried sick!”

“Michael came to check on us and figured out that I’ve been sneaking around. Dean,” and Dean is suddenly aware of the waver in Castiel’s voice, “Dean, can you come over, please? I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” Dean answers immediately, glad for the opportunity to finally be supportive of Cas for once. He slides out of bed and starts shuffling through the clothes on the floor, looking for his boxers. “Yeah, gimme time to shower and I can be there. Will Michael be a problem?”

“No, he left for Seattle this morning, that’s why I have my phone back.” Cas takes a deep breath, and his next words are flooded with emotion. “Thank you, Dean, I’m so sorry I disappeared, just-”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” And Dean’s a little surprised at how relaxed he sounds. He balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he pulls his boxers up. “Text me the visitor code and I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Dean.”

“See you, Cas.” Dean flips his phone shut and throws it on the bed, surprised at how light he suddenly feels. Joyful, really. Just from finally receiving a phone call from Cas. He’s smiling as he kneels down to retrieve his jeans and pull them up, when someone clears her throat.

Dean winces as he lifts his gaze to look at Lisa. She’s sitting up now, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows furrowed, her jaw jutted forward.

“Wow,” she says, once she knows she has Dean’s full attention.

Dean tries to bring his smile back. “That was Cas,” he offers. “He’s okay, but… well, he’s not okay. I have to go check on him.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Lisa says again, nostrils flaring.

“You can come with me,” Dean says. “I’m sure Cas won’t mind.”

“Yeah.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “He _could_ have you all to himself, but he’d just _love_ having to share you with me. That’s _exactly_ what he wants right now.” Before Dean can even attempt to figure out what the hell she’s getting at, she’s thrown the blanket off and slipped off the bed, started pulling her panties on and mumbling angrily to herself. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe this shit, what a fucking little piece of shit _liar_ , he just-”

“Lisa?” Dean’s still bare-chested, staring in confusion as Lisa snaps her bra into place and starts pulling her jeans back up. He’s never seen her this _angry_ before. Cas had said he thought Lisa didn’t like him, but since she’d reacted so well when Cas talked to her about the kiss, Dean had figured that wasn’t true. Seeing her react like this, especially after Cas has been essentially _missing_ for several days, is a little jarring. “Lisa, what’s wrong?”

“You!” Lisa shoots back, arms stuck in her blouse. “You and Castiel, that little _shit_.”

Dean raises his eyebrows as she pulls her blouse on, and holds his hands up. “What did Cas ever do to you?”

Lisa laughs derisively. “Oh, I dunno, not much. He just kissed _my_ boyfriend, like, three or four times in the two months he’s been here.”

“Are you jealous?” Dean shakes his head. “You don’t have any reason to be jealous, Lisa. Those kisses didn’t mean anything, it’s just…” It’s just something he and Cas do. Dean can say all he wants that those kisses are meaningless, but he knows that’s a lie. He’s not sure what the meaning is, but he knows it’s there. He also knows that he cares about Lisa, probably loves her, and he doesn’t want her to be jealous of his friendship with Cas. “He’s my best friend. That’s it.”

“Right.” Lisa rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. “That’s what he said, too. ‘Best friends,’ and he tells me that’s all there is to it, ‘just friends,’ and yet…” She exhales roughly. “You always ditch me whenever he calls. You don’t do that when it comes to Jo or Charlie or Pam, it’s just Cas! You forget I’m around when he’s there. You call him when you’re in trouble, even if I’m right there with you.” She’s stepping closer, brandishing a finger in Dean’s face. “When you were drunk that one time and Cas had to haul you home, you kept smelling him. I told myself, he’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Then I find out that you’ve been kissing him, and he says-”

Lisa cuts herself off abruptly, chewing on her lower lip as she stares up at Dean. Her eyes are dark and furious, and she’s clearly struggling with something. But then she sighs, and all the tension in her body just falls away.

“There’s something you don’t know about Cas,” she says, and she sounds almost pleading. “He swore he’d never tell you, so you’re probably better off not asking. But,” and again, she pauses, running both hands through her hair. “I think there’s things he doesn’t know about you either. That maybe you don’t know about yourself. And I…” She takes a deep breath and a few steps back. “I hate to do this. I know how you are about your friends. But when it comes to Cas?”

Lisa picks up her purse from where she’d dropped it next to the stairs, then meets Dean’s gaze from across the room. “It’s Cas or me,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

And without even giving Dean the opportunity to think about it, she’s up the stairs and out the door. And Dean is left reeling with everything she said, and everything she didn’t say.

None of it lines up. Dean can’t imagine a world where Cas has been anything but completely honest with him, but he can’t wrap his head around the idea of Lisa saying something like that just because she’s angry. Especially because she didn’t look so angry when she’d said it. The rest of that stuff, how Dean treats Cas differently than he treats his other friends, well, Dean has already kind of accepted that. But having to face that either one of them might be lying to him…

Dean rubs his hands over his face and grabs a fresh t-shirt out of his closet. He doesn’t have time for this. He has to get to the resort and see Cas and see that he’s okay and find out what’s bothering him.

He’s aware that this sort of thing is why Lisa was so angry. That by doing this, he might have already made his choice. But Dean doesn’t care. He’ll check up on Cas now, and try to figure out how smooth things over with Lisa later. It’s really all he can do.

 

\-----

 

Cas’s face lights up as soon as he sees Dean outside the door, and when he pulls Dean in for a hug, Dean can’t help returning it. He grips Cas’s shirt, keeping him close, and although he manages to resist the urge to actually smell Cas, it’s impossible to miss that lingering scent of peppermint.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas mumbles as he leads Dean into the suite. “Michael figured it out when Gabe mentioned going to the concert. I was supposed to take Anna, and when Michael realized we had all lied to him, he took everyone’s phones, and even dragged Gabe off to Seattle with him.” Cas rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Doesn’t there have to be an adult with you and Anna?” Dean asks.

“Gabe’s coming back in a couple days,” Cas says. “No one at the hotel will actually care, as long as Anna and I are quiet and clean.”

Castiel takes a seat on the sofa and reaches for a laptop on the coffee table. Dean takes the cue to sit next to him, close enough to see the screen. “So what’s wrong?” Dean asks. Castiel takes a deep breath and types in a MySpace address.

“I think I found my brother,” he whispers. Dean frowns, watching Cas’s face, but when he turns to the screen and sees the picture, he remembers everything that went down last summer. Cas sobbing on the phone about his runaway older brother, Dean sneaking down to the bungalow in the middle of the night to read Harry Potter and watch Star Wars in an attempt to cheer Cas up, the two of them waking up spooned together on Cas’s tiny bed.

“Lucifer?”

“Yeah,” and Cas is smiling slightly, though he tries to temper it by biting his lower lip. “That picture is recent. I’ve never seen that haircut on him before.” He swallows, then clicks the home button. “It says he’s located in Miami. I sent him a short message last week, when I found the profile, but he didn’t get back to me until today.”

“And?” Dean prompts, nudging Cas with his shoulder. “What did he say?”

“I haven’t read it yet,” Cas admits. “I wanted some support, first.”

Dean meets his gaze for a moment, then smiles and ruffles Cas’s hair. “Well, I’m here if you need me,” he says, stretching out on the couch. “So read away.”

Cas smiles fondly at him, then leans back into the other side of the couch, letting his legs tangle with Dean’s. The touch seems to comfort him as he takes a deep breath and makes a few clicks on the screen.

Dean puts his hands behind his head and leans back, closing his eyes. It’s comforting to him too, just being back in Cas’s presence. And maybe that should be weird, or something that’s alarming, but even considering his fight with Lisa, Dean still feels happier than he has in days. Why challenge that?

After a few moments, Cas shuts his laptop and sets it aside, relaxing back into the couch with his hands folded over his stomach. Dean lifts his eye and cocks an eyebrow at him, which puts a small smile on Cas’s face.

“It’s really him,” Cas sighs. “He was glad to hear from me and wants to stay in touch, but he doesn’t want me to tell our family.” He runs his hands over his face, then sits up. “How do I keep this from my mother? She doesn’t talk about it much, but I know she’s still worried.”

Honestly, Dean’s surprised that Cas hasn’t followed Lucifer’s lead at this point, considering how his brother and mom would rather cage him up than let him socialize with people he actually likes. He almost says so, but catches himself, and instead goes down another train of thought. “Why’d you call me and not Bela?”

Cas squints at him. “What?”

“You and Bela, you’ve got, y’know…” Dean sits up and shrugs, waving his hand in the air. “A thing, I guess.”

Cas frowns. “What makes you think that?”

“I saw you at Jo’s party,” Dean explains, voice quiet; just thinking about that image makes that emptiness threaten to break wide open again, tear him apart inside. “Cuddling with Bela.”

Cas studies him for a moment, then barks out a laugh. He quickly smothers it under a hand, but the giggles are bubbling through him now, making his shoulders shake as he tries to suppress them. Dean pouts, but that just seems to make Cas laugh all the harder, and to be honest, Dean can’t be too upset. It’s nice to see Cas laughing again.

“What’s so funny?” Dean demands, playfully slapping at Cas’s leg.

Cas struggles to get his laughter under control, until he can finally respond: “I don’t have anything going on with Bela.” He’s still grinning like a fool, even if the giggles have mostly stopped. “I was comforting her.”

“Looked an awful lot like cuddling.”

“Maybe it was.” Cas shrugs. “But it wasn’t romantic or sexual in any way. She was upset, and I wanted to make her feel better.”

Dean lifts his chin, surprised. “What was she upset about?”

Cas shakes his head. “I can’t give details, but it boils down to finding out that her crush likes someone else.”

Dean blinks. “And you’re not the crush?”

Cas laughs again. “No. Definitely not.”

Well, that’s a relief if Dean’s ever needed one. He finds himself laughing too, carefree and calm for what feels like the first time in ages.

They end up sprawled on the couch for a couple hours, watching trash TV and catching up on everything that’s happened while Cas was out of reach. Cas is upset when he hears that Jo knows the kissing game was rigged, and mentioning that everyone just seems to be angry at Dean doesn’t help to calm Cas down. Deep in his heart, Dean is pleased by this, as he always is when Cas is protective of him. It’s nice to know that someone cares.

They discuss whether or not Cas should tell his family about Lucifer, ultimately deciding that Cas can talk to Lucifer a little more, trying to convince him to at least contact their parents and let them know he’s okay.

There comes a moment, in the late afternoon, where they’re leaning up against each other and not really paying attention to the TV so much as just enjoying each other’s company. Sunlight streams in through the window, bright and warm, and Cas is half-asleep, judging by his slow, steady breaths. That’s when Dean remembers what Lisa had said, about something Dean doesn’t know about Cas.

And it bugs him, honestly. Either Lisa is lying, or Cas is.

“Hey,” Dean whispers, shrugging his shoulders. “Cas.”

Cas hums softly, then lifts his head. “What?”

“I got into a fight with Lisa today.” Dean glances at Cas out of the corner of his eye, but Cas just blinks blearily at him, waiting for more information. “It was about you.”

“Again?” Cas pauses before chuckling softly. He pulls his knees up, sitting cross-legged, and smiles down at his lap. “I tried to tell you she didn’t like me.”

“She said something,” and it’s not at all promising, the way Cas suddenly freezes, the smile dropping from his face. “That there’s something I don’t know about you. She didn’t tell me what it is, but…” Dean laughs softly, still hoping. “But I can’t imagine you’d keep something from me. I mean, I thought you weren’t telling me about dating Bela, but then I hate Bela so of course you’d keep that from me.” Cas actually lifts his head and smiles at that, so Dean continues. “But, you’re my best friend. You know everything about me. I should know everything about you. Right?”

Cas closes his eyes, pain crossing his features. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “You should.”

“Then what is it?” Dean shifts and gently nudges Cas’s arm, smiling wide and cheerful. “C’mon, man, after all we’ve been through, you can trust me.”

Cas lets out a slow exhale, then shakes his head. “Not with this.”

The smile drops off of Dean’s face, and he’s so confused and hurt by this that he’s completely unable to keep his expression under control. He leans towards Cas, who only scoots away, putting more distance between them. “Why not?” Dean asks, hating how pathetic he sounds.

“Because it’s not important,” Cas answers, trying to sound soothing. “It’s completely irrelevant to our friendship, and not that big of a deal.”

“Then why does _Lisa_ know?” And now there’s anger, which is only amplified by the way Cas winces and stammers, trying to figure out a response. “It’s not important to tell me, your _best friend_ , but Lisa gets to know?” Dean runs a hand through his hair, then turns to glare at Cas. “Who else knows besides Lisa?”

Cas opens his mouth, but clearly thinks better of whatever he was about to say. Instead, he moves further away, out of Dean’s reach, before he says, “Bela. I told Bela.”

It’s like spiders in Dean’s throat, climbing up out of lungs and leaving poisonous bites the whole way. It’s like Dean’s heart is cold glass under boiling water, and he’s stuck watching as it cracks and splinters in the heat. Dean is so torn between fury and pain that he wants to claw at his own face until it all pours out and leaves him empty, and the worst part is that Cas has to know how much Dean would hate to hear that _Bela_ knows Cas better than he does. He has to know how much that would _hurt_ Dean.

But Cas just sits there on the floor, staring stoically at Dean’s face, his hands fidgeting even as his eyes remain blank. Dean’s not sure what’s happening, but it feels like Cas knows he just lit a fuse, and he’s waiting for the bomb to go off. And that’s so like Cas, it’s so goddamn reasonable: better to survey the damage before trying to figure out how to fix things, right?

Dean takes a short breath, and it aches. “So is Bela your best friend, then?” he accuses, voice soft but stinging, and he feels a bitter sort of victory when Cas winces.

“No, Dean, she’s just-”

“She might as well be,” Dean spits. “Your family actually likes her, it’d be easier to spend as much time with her as you want. She dresses nicely, her clothes never have holes in them, so you don’t have to be embarrassed about who you’re hanging out with.”

“Dean, I’d never-”

But Dean’s not finished. He stumbles to his feet, never taking his eyes off Cas, as he says, “She’s gorgeous and slutty and all you have to do is say the word and she’d spread her legs for you. She’s smarter than me and I bet she’s a better kisser too.”

Cas stands up, eyes wide, and holds out his hands to gently grip Dean’s forearms. “Dean, it’s not that important. Please, calm down.”

“If it’s not that important, why can’t you tell me?” Dean sounds petulant and jealous, and he doesn’t even care.

Cas, however, finally frowns, finally makes an expression that Dean can understand and react to. “Because you don’t need to know.”

“But Bela did?” Dean scoffs. “And Lisa? _My_ girlfriend, you’d tell my _girlfriend_ before you’d tell me?” Dean shoves Cas backwards, practically snarling. “What, are you in love with Lisa? Is that it? You want to steal her from me, and you and Bela laugh about it?”

Cas scowls and shoves Dean back. “You’re so fucking obtuse, Dean,” he snaps. “You’re so fucking blinded by all of this…” He makes an incoherent noise, running his hands through his hair. “I asked you over here for comfort, so I could have a friend to lean on while I try to figure out what to do about Lucifer, and this is how you’re going to be?”

“Oh, so you just wanted to fucking use me? Like a patched-up little teddy bear, something soulless and soft to cling to in the dark?”

“This is no worse than all the times you’ve used me!” Cas yells, reaching over to grip Dean’s t-shirt in his hands. “All those drunk dials where I had to steal Gabe’s car in the middle of the night to make sure you got home safe, where I was worried sick about you, was that just you using _me_?”

Then Cas does something odd. He tucks his head into his own bicep and smothers what sounds like a sob, before releasing Dean’s shirt and taking a few shaky steps back.

“You need to leave,” he says, taking a seat on the couch and burying his face in his hands.

The thought that Cas might be crying has shaken Dean all over again, however. He hesitates, wanting to provide comfort, wanting to make those tears go away, but then Cas lashes out again, dropping his hands and sitting upright as he yells, “Get the _fuck_ out!”

Dean flinches and practically runs for the door. He hesitates just outside, wondering if he should go back in and talk this over, but his heart clenches when he thinks of Bela knowing something that he doesn’t.

That’s what spurs him back out to his truck and onto open highway. There’s a rift now, opened by that one secret, and filled with distrust, and wondering what there is that Cas could be hiding from Dean.

And it grows. The more Dean thinks about it, the more he wonders what he’s missed, whether or not Cas has lied to him about anything from his feelings for Bela to whether or not he really cares about Dean’s poverty. And the larger the rift grows, the angrier Dean becomes.

By the time Dean realizes that he’s all but lost his girlfriend over a boy he’s not sure he can trust, he’s had enough. He doesn’t care about promises or crying eyes or broken hearts. He just doesn’t want to feel like this anymore.

He reaches for his phone and pulls up the number in his contacts, then puts the phone to his ear.

A low chuckle greets him once the ringing stops.

“I knew you’d come crawling back eventually,” says Alastair.

 

**August 12th, 2006**

There are a hundred reasons why Dean shouldn’t be drunk right now.

One, this is the third night in a row that he’s been drunk.

Two, he’s already been yelled at by Bobby for coming in to work hungover.

Three, Mary tried to ground him again this morning, giving him a lecture about being a good role model for his brother, and attempting to express her own disappointment.

Four, Sam had turned the puppy eyes on him when he stumbled in last night, reeking of whiskey.

And so on, and so on.

But there are a hundred _million_ reasons why Dean _absolutely_ _should_ be drunk right now. That list is topped off with the fact that his girlfriend is furious at him, and his best friend can’t be trusted. It spirals off into various other things, like Dean is a talentless hack with no future, so why not blow off his youth? Like Dean’s friends can’t stand to be around him anyway, considering he’s a manipulative piece of shit who doesn’t know how to keep a secret or respect personal boundaries.

Dean is just scum. So why not waste his time with more scum? Why not blow off some steam by getting in a few fist fights until his head clears?

No one really gives a shit about Dean anyway. So why the hell should Dean give a shit about himself?

That’s why it’s so surprising when someone drags him out to the front porch, someone with red hair and small hands and shiny eyes. Someone who shouldn’t be speaking to Dean.

“Charlie?” Dean grunts, tilting his head. There’s a red plastic cup in his hand, and his shirt is wet with what smells like vodka. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Looking for you.” Charlie runs a hand through her hair, then anxiously glances over her shoulder at the empty street. Not so empty. There’s a car there, a little yellow bug, and Dean frowns when Charlie says, “I want to take you home.”

“You go home,” Dean snaps. “Shouldn’t be here anyway.”

“Neither should you!” Charlie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Dean, everyone is worried about you. Will you please just come home with me?”

“I got shit to do here,” Dean says, pointedly taking a long drink out of his cup. It burns going down and he can’t help wincing a little before turning back on Charlie. “How’d you find me anyway? These things ain’t exactly posted on MySpace.”

Charlie hesitates, almost as if she knows what kind of response the truth will get her. It’s only after a long pause that she finally answers, “Um. Bela told me.”

The cup is immediately crushed in Dean’s fist, and he hurls the hunk of plastic out onto the lawn. Charlie flinches, defensively putting her hands up and taking a few steps back. “Bela doesn’t give a shit about me,” Dean snarls.

“That’s not entirely true,” Charlie begins, but when Dean stumbles closer, ends up leaning against the porch railing, Charlie starts heading down the front stairs. “Dean, please-”

“You shouldn’t give a shit about me either,” Dean says, gripping the railing in an almost futile effort to stay upright. “I told Lisa about you, that was all on me, I couldn’t keep your secret, so why the fuck are you here?”

“It was going to come out at some point anyway!” Charlie takes a hesitant step up the stairs, close enough that Dean can see her freckles in the porchlight. “Dean, I don’t hate you. I’m not even mad at you. No one is. They just want you to come home and get some rest.”

Dean stares at her for a long moment. Rest sounds good, actually. Tempting. But he knows she’s wrong when she says that nobody’s mad at him. Jo stormed out on him. Lisa was furious enough to ask him to stop hanging out with Cas. Then Cas kicked him out. Mary tried to ground him, Bobby threatened to fire him.

Dean slumps against the railing and presses a hand to his forehead. “No,” he mumbles, turning back to the front door. “‘M not going home yet. Stuff to do.”

Of course, later, when Dean ends up nursing a black eye, bruised knuckles, and a split lip on top of a killer hangover, he might wish he’d taken Charlie up on her offer. Then, who knows how things might have turned out?

But he didn’t. And in the future, whenever he dares to think about this part of his life, he’ll always think about the night Charlie came to save him, and wish he’d let her do so.

Then, maybe things might not have turned out as badly as they did.

 

**August 13th, 2006**

“Liiisa!”

“Dean?” Her voice sounds small, and there’s a clinking noise in the background. Dean leans back against a tree, resting the bottle of Stoli in his lap as he grins up at the sky. “Um. Are you okay?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic!” Dean answers cheerfully. Ruby giggles and reaches for the bottle in his lap; he quickly twists away from her, and loses his balance, rolling onto his stomach. The bottle falls free and Ruby grabs it up, sticking her tongue out at Dean, then passing it to Lilith. Dean grunts as he tries to sit up again. “Lis, babe, it’s late, I know, but I just had to call you.”

“Why?” She sounds suspicious. Of course she does. They were fighting, but the thing they were fighting about, well, it’s not a problem anymore.

“Wanted to tell you that me and Cas are through.” Dean presses a hand up against the tree, trying to get back on his feet. “He’s never gonna interrupt our dates again.”

Lisa is silent, at first. Dean finally gets his feet under him and pulls himself up before turning around. Lilith is smirking up at him, blonde hair falling around her shoulders. Ruby is far more interested in the Stoli. Azazel sits stoically at Alastair’s side, glaring up at Dean while Alastair is busy with his notebook, adding up sales and payments to determine who needs to be attended to tonight.

And directly across from Dean, leaning up against a tree of her own, is Bela. A frown mars her pretty face as she watches Dean laugh into the phone.

“Cas is a fucking liar, just like you said,” Dean offers, voice raised just enough to make Bela’s eyebrow twitch.

“That’s not what I said,” Lisa responds quietly. “I said-”

“That I didn’t know shit about him. That makes him a liar in my book.”

“Dean. Are you drunk?”

Dean runs a hand through his hair and laughs again, though it sounds more like a hiccup. “Babe, I feel better than I’ve felt in weeks. Who cares how it happened?” He shifts against the tree, still grinning at Bela’s scowl. “Hey, hey, do you wanna hang out soon?”

“Maybe you should call me back when you’re sober,” Lisa says slowly. There’s no more clinking in the background. Just empty air.

“Nah, Alastair is throwing this big blow-out party on the beach, so everybody can have some fun before school starts. You should meet me there.”

“Those parties have never really worked out for us before.”

“C’mon, what’s the point of this whole ‘being teenagers in love’ thing if we don’t act stupid sometimes?”

Lisa goes quiet again. A little ways away, Bela rolls her eyes and turns her head to watch Alastair signal Dean to wrap it up.

“Well,” Lisa whispers, “I guess I could give it one more shot.”

“Awesome,” Dean laughs. “It starts tomorrow night at sundown, text me when you show up.”

“Okay.” Lisa hesitates, then, “I love you.”

Dean isn’t so drunk that he doesn’t recognize it’s the first time she’s said that to him. He is drunk enough that the immediate rush of conflicting emotions gets washed over and blown away, allowing him to laugh once more and respond, “You too, babe,” before hanging up.

“Good,” Alastair says, standing up as soon as Dean’s phone is tucked back in his pocket. “Now we can get started.”

As they head down the hill, Dean stumbles a few times too many. Lilith and Ruby laugh at him, then turn their backs. Considering Alastair is informing Azazel on who to collect from, it’s a little surprising to feel someone attempting to support his weight.

It’s even more surprising when Dean turns his head and realizes it’s Bela.

“You’re a heavy beast, y’know that?” Bela mutters, straining under Dean’s arm. Dean frowns at her, not even trying to help lighten her load.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Look, Winchester,” she huffs, “there’s certainly no love lost between us, I promise you that. I don’t particularly give a flying fuck about you.”

Bela pauses, her breath coming quickly. When Dean stumbles, it makes her stumble, and really the only reason they’re making any progress at all is because Dean might have fallen already if she hadn’t been there to hold him up.

“Cas does, though,” she says finally, and her quiet voice almost seems to echo in Dean’s ears. “Cas cares a lot.”

There’s a hollow sort of feeling in Dean’s chest when she says it, and he rubs his free hand over his face before shaking his head. “Cares more about you.”

“Hah!” Bela scoffs. “You’re so busy being jealous of me, you never stopped to put the puzzle pieces together. Idiot.”

Dean’s not sure what she means by that. He’s not sure he’d understand it even if he was sober, so he just stares at her in confusion as they approach the tree line.

“He tells you things he can’t tell me,” Dean says. “That means he’s not my best friend.”

Before he can blink, his back is slammed up against a tree, and Bela has a hand splayed on his chest, leaning all her weight against him to keep him upright. Her green eyes are fixed on his, perfectly-formed eyebrows furrowed in anger, pink lips pouted with aggression.

“You are a self-centered piece of shit, did you know that?” she says, nose wrinkling as if she can smell Dean’s sins leaking out his pores. “You’re so focused on your own problems, you never bothered to ask Cas about his. You just jerked him around, let him be there for you when it was convenient, then skipped off to fuck your sweet-faced little doll of a girlfriend and never had a thought to what Cas felt like in the aftermath. Fuck that!” She practically spits in his face, her hand gripping his t-shirt tight enough that he can feel the collar digging into his neck. “Like you’re such a perfect friend, Dean? Like you’ve never kept anything from Cas?”

Of course he has. Dean’s never told anyone about those weird dreams, and if he did, Cas would be the last person he’d want to know about them.

And Dean feels sick to his stomach. Nausea and self-loathing roil through him, leaving him limp and numb in Bela’s grasp. He’s guilty of more than Cas ever could be, and here he is acting like Cas is the villain.

Scum. Scum. He’s fucking _scum_.

Dean rubs a hand over his face and says, “I don’t deserve him.”

“No,” Bela responds, pulling him away from the tree and leading him back out to the road. “You don’t. And neither do I. But Cas doesn’t particularly care about that, so I don’t know why you do.”

Dean hates her so much in this instant. Hates her perfect wavy hair and her perfect cheekbones and her tiny waist and tiny hands and pretty feet in pretty shoes. He hates her snobby attitude and her money and her loyalty to Cas and her complete assurance that Cas cares enough to forgive her sins.

Dean doesn’t have any of that. He just has bloody knuckles and alcoholism. Like his dad. What could Cas ever want from him that he couldn’t get from Bela instead?

Let Bela have Cas. She’ll treat him better than Dean ever could.

At least Dean has Lisa.

 

**August 14th, 2006**

Dean has never seen a drunk Lisa before.

Sure, she held a cup of vodka that first time, and the second time they tried a party, Dean is pretty sure he saw her with a cup in her hand, though he has no idea what was in it. Both times, Dean was a wreck before Lisa even had a chance to try keeping up with him. Both times, she had left, with or without Dean.

Now, though? Now, she’s drunk. Stupid drunk. Handsy drunk, actually, pressed up against Dean with her mouth leaving kisses wherever she can find skin, her fingers trailing over his shirt, then under it, then trying to slide under his belt.

If Dean were sober, he’d notice that awful leer Alastair is sending their way. He’d notice that Lisa isn’t thinking clearly, and he’d take her home to sleep it off.

But Dean isn’t sober. He’s stupid drunk too. And they’re still mostly dressed, hidden under a blanket in the bed of his truck but Dean can hear the laughter and jeers of the audience they’ve attracted, mainly because Lisa is finally relaxed and ready enough to come from Dean’s cock alone. And she didn’t make any secret of it, laughing and sighing and shouting with her nails digging into Dean’s back.

It’s a miracle, really, that Dean could hold on long enough for her to make it, and he loses himself as soon as she’s done. It feels different, somehow. Maybe because of the way Lisa keeps whispering about how much she loves him, with her hands roaming in his hair.

When their bodies are still, their breath mingling between them, a final muffled cheer goes up before the noise dies away. Only then does Dean tuck his dick back in his boxers, then try to help Lisa redress, and only when Lisa is decent do they throw the blanket back, sit up, and breathe in cool air again.

It’s a poor effort, really. Lisa’s blouse is still mostly unbuttoned and her hair is a tangled mess, and Dean doesn’t even bother to put his overshirt back on. They absolutely look like two people who just had a drunk quickie under a blanket, but Dean figures that a good chunk of people at the party already know they did, so who cares?

Still, he smiles and tucks a lock of hair behind Lisa’s ear before leaning in, attempting to kiss her, but Lisa jerks back. She’s frowning out towards the parking lot, so Dean follows her gaze, confused.

Standing there in his running shorts and a white jersey, skin glowing with sweat under the streetlights, is Cas. And he’s staring right back at Dean, face expressionless as he walks towards them.

“I could hear the party from the other end of town,” Cas says, and his eyes are serious even though he manages to smile slightly. “I thought I might run into you here.”

“Yeah, well, you were right. Great job, Einstein.” Dean makes a mocking little bow, which sets Lisa into a fit of giggles. Cas’s eyebrow twitches, but he takes another step forward anyway.

“Maybe you guys should go home,” Cas suggests.

“Why?” Dean demands. They’re having fun, and it’s none of Cas’s business how they have fun anyway. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do, Cas?”

“Your _friend_ ,” Cas snaps, finally losing his composure. “Or so I thought.”

“Friends don’t lie to each other!”

“Yeah, Cas,” Lisa joins in, leaning into Dean’s shoulder with a smile. Dean presses his nose into her hair, runs a hand through it, entranced by her nearness. “Maybe you should just come clean with your little secret. I’m sure Dean will understand.”

Dean glances at Cas without removing his lips from Lisa’s head. Cas takes a sharp breath, and almost seems to crumple for a moment, his hand gripping compulsively at his jersey as he turns away from the couple.

“I didn’t come here to talk about that,” Cas whispers. “I just want to help you guys get home.”

“Well, we’re not going home,” Lisa says, swinging her legs over the tailgate. She stumbles when she slides off, laughs at herself, and forcefully pushes Cas away when he reaches to help her. “No thanks, buddy. C’mon, Dean.”

But Dean stays seated on the tailgate’s edge, staring at Cas. Cas meets his eyes and stares back, pleading silently. Dean remembers what Bela said, that she doesn’t deserve Cas anymore than Dean does, but that doesn’t stop Cas from caring about her anyway. And he wants to believe that’s true for himself as well… but what has he done to deserve it?

Dean lied too. He lied about the sex dreams. He lied by omission, keeping all those little desires to himself, about playing with Cas’s hair or liking the way he smells. He lied about the kisses, because they do mean something to him. He lied about being completely honest with Cas.

Dean wants to make up. He’s practically paralyzed with fear at the thought of telling Cas about all his lies, but he doesn’t want to lose Cas. What the hell would he do without him?

Here’s the problem, the way Dean sees it. Cas is standing next to him, blue eyes practically glowing under the streetlight, and he smells like sweat, but he looks like heaven with his perfect skin and his face shaped like a Michelangelo sculpture, and his lovely hands still stretched out, ready to catch Lisa if she falls, and probably ready to do the same for Dean if he needs it.

Cas is an angel. And he’s too high for Dean to ever catch up.

But Lisa, she’s here on the ground. She’s just as guilty as Dean, in her drunkenness and her initiating sex in the back of his truck. Lisa is still too good for Dean, but at least she’s within reach.

Cas wants to lift Dean up, and that’s terrifying. Lisa is happy with the way things are, and if Dean falls, maybe she’ll fall with him.

“Get out of here, Cas,” Dean says finally, voice quiet. Cas’s hands drop as Dean slides off the tailgate and wraps an arm around Lisa’s waist, tugging her close. Dean can’t look at Cas’s face, but he can feel it starting, that bleak emptiness swirling in his chest, just from Cas’s disappointed posture.

“Dean-”

“Go home, nobody wants you here!” Lisa yells over her shoulder, as Dean leans up against her and they walk back down the stairs. Alastair has set up a little circle near the waves, with Ruby and Lilith and Azazel, and he gestures for Dean and Lisa to join them.

Dean doesn’t look back.

Alastair passes around a bottle of vodka, and invites other kids, favored customers, to join the circle and play little games. After a while, Alastair starts passing a joint around, informing everyone that he has new connections and can now provide pot or other drugs, if anyone is interested. Dean is too drunk to take a proper hit, and then he’s too drunk to care that everyone laughs when he chokes on the smoke. He’s too drunk to think of better, happier, smaller parties held on this same beach, and he’s too drunk to notice how loud and rowdy the crowd has gotten, how few clothes everyone seems to be wearing, how the joint in his circle isn’t the only one being passed around.

In fact, for who knows how long, Dean doesn’t notice much of anything except Lisa’s body pressed up against his own, and the laughter of the people around him. Someone grabs his shoulder and yells his name, and at first he ignores it, brushes the hand away, but then there’s a set of arms wrapping around his chest, hauling him up, and now Dean flails in confusion, swearing, “What the fuck?”

He can’t see who’s holding him, but when he looks back, he sees Lisa blinking blearily and none other than Mary attempting to help her to her feet.

Oh God. Dean’s _mother_ is here.

Dean fights whoever’s holding him, but their arms just tighten, and that’s when Dean is hit with a whiff of peppermint.

“Cas?” Dean grunts. Cas doesn’t respond, still trying to pull him across the sand. Drunk kids are turning to watch, pointing and laughing, and Dean struggles against Cas’s hold. “Cas, what the fuck, let me go!”

“No,” Cas says firmly. “You need to get out of here. Now.”

“Goddammit, Cas, you’re not-” Dean stops when he notices Alastair getting up and approaching Mary and Lisa. Mary is having an easier time, since Lisa’s not fighting her, and now that Dean thinks about it, Lisa looks miserable. Almost sick. Why didn’t she say anything?

Alastair follows Mary until she’s caught up to Dean and Cas, and Dean watches as Alastair turns on his own personal version of very slimy charm. He tells her she has nothing to worry about, that Dean and Lisa are in very good hands, and nothing bad will happen to them while Alastair is in charge.

At this, Mary pauses. She shifts Lisa’s weight until she can hold her up with one arm, then turns to face Alastair. “How old are you?” Mary asks.

“Twenty-five,” Alastair says with a smile.

“And you buy alcohol for all these underage kids?” Mary scoffs. “How am I supposed to trust you with my kids when I know you’re providing them with this shit?”

“I always supervise the get-togethers, to ensure nothing bad happens.”

“Right.” Mary carefully sets Lisa down at her feet. Dean is so confused by what he’s seeing that he’s not even struggling anymore. “Because Dean coming home blackout drunk isn’t something bad. Because that doesn’t destroy brain cells.”

“All part of the teenage experience, I believe.”

“Listen here,” and Mary steps forward, thrusting a finger in Alastair’s chest. There’s a significant height difference, but Mary, in her maternal fury and Dean’s drunken awe, seems several feet taller than normal. “You stay the hell away from my kids, or I swear to God, the cops will be the _least_ of your worries.”

That’s when Dean hears the sirens. Cas curses in his ear and starts dragging him off again, and Dean is too stunned to struggle this time. Someone called the cops. Someone actually, finally called the cops on one of these shindigs, and from a distance, he can see Alastair realizing what’s happening, dropping the charm and turning to Mary with anger. He can’t hear the conversation anymore, but he can see the way Lisa clings to Mary’s legs as Mary shouts right back.

The confrontation ends with Mary’s fist in Alastair’s face. Dean can only gape, slack-jawed, as Alastair crumples, clutching his nose, and Mary quickly picks Lisa back up and carries her across the sand.

Other kids have noticed the police cars and started taking off for the parking lot, so when they reach the stairs, Cas actually shoves Dean to his feet and presses him against a support pole. “You need to help me out if you don’t want to end up in Sheriff Mill’s backseat,” Cas says, and Dean wonders why Cas is even here trying to help him.

Mary catches up to them, then, calling out to ask if Cas needs help. Before Cas can answer, Dean leans forward, bracing himself against Cas’s side, and helping Cas help him up the stairs and across the parking lot to Dean’s truck. Cas digs in the pockets of Dean’s jeans until he finds the keys, and God help him, Dean’s dick gives a very interested twitch at the proximity of Cas’s hand. But the next thing he knows, Dean is being thrown into the passenger seat, and Cas has crawled into the driver’s side and gotten the engine going.

“Where’s Lisa?” Dean mumbles, leaning up against the window.

“In your mom’s car,” Cas answers, starting to back out. There’s three brown-and-white police cars now, probably Sileas’s entire fleet, and Jody Mills steps out of the sheriff’s car with a megaphone in hand. It’s chaos now, kids everywhere, whistles blowing, people yelling, the bass from the stereo still thumping, and above it all, the distinct yelp of police sirens.

Overwhelmed, Dean runs a hand over his face and closes his eyes. And sleeps.

He remembers only flashes after that. Someone grunting in his ear. Someone dropping him somewhere soft. The soft sound of a woman crying. A door slamming shut.

Between all that is blackness. Emptiness. Dean prefers it that way.

 

**August 15th, 2006**

When Dean wakes up, he immediately wishes he hadn’t.

It’s not just the hangover, either, though that’s certainly nothing to laugh at. It’s the plucking at his memory, digging through the night before, remembering how he’d let Lisa get drunk, how awful he’d been to Cas, how he and Lisa basically had sex in front of an audience. The horror he feels, as he realizes he can’t remember if they’d used a condom or not, is honestly making him more nauseous than anything else.

He’s a terrible person. All his excuses for how he treated Cas, trying to corrupt Lisa, Dean Winchester is King of the Scumbags. And he just wants to lay here on this couch until he ceases to exist.

But he can’t.

His mother is already awake, shuffling around the kitchen, and when Dean sits up, it’s just in time to see Lisa closing the door to his own basement bedroom. Dean blinks, surprised that she’d spent the night, and when she finally turns to look at him, he says, “G’morning.”

“Not so much,” says Lisa, with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “We need to talk.”

Oh no.

Dean swallows. “Um. Maybe we should have breakfast first. Or something.”

Lisa shakes her head as she approaches the couch and takes a seat, as far away from Dean as she can get. “I have to do it now, or I’ll lose my nerve.”

“That’s why I suggested breakfast,” Dean tries to joke, but Lisa just sighs.

“Dean, we’re no good for each other,” she says. “Don’t you realize that?”

What she means is, Dean’s no good for her. And Dean has been aware of that from day one, so he holds her gaze and lets the silence stretch until she’s ready to speak again.

“All I want is to make you happy,” she continues, “but in a completely selfish way.”

“Isn’t that what love is?” Dean grumbles.

Lisa hesitates, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean… I thought so. Until recently.” She looks away, then, staring out the bay window. How she can look at direct sunlight like that after all the tequila she had, Dean doesn’t know. “All I know for sure is that I don’t like this.”

“What don’t you like?” Because maybe Dean can fix this. Maybe he can make it all better, and they can go into their junior year stronger and more in love. But Lisa doesn’t look back at him, choosing to continue staring out the window instead.

“I don’t like wanting to own another person,” she says slowly, as if these are things she's still figuring out for herself. “I don’t like being so jealous all the time, that someone else can give you things I can’t. I don’t like thinking that what I can give you isn’t enough.” She runs a hand through her dark hair, and Dean feels the urge to imitate the movement, drag his hands all through her soft, dark hair, just in case he never gets the chance to do it again. “Dean, I only started sleeping with you because I was afraid of losing you. And I don’t regret the decision. Please don’t think I do. But, I do regret the reason.”

Lisa closes her eyes, and for a moment there’s so much pain in her features that Dean isn’t sure what to do. He wishes he could press his fingertips to her forehead and leech all that pain onto himself. As it stands, he feels it anyway, but he can’t take it from her, make her feel better. “You don’t have to be afraid of losing me,” he says softly. He loves her. Love doesn’t just… _end_. It might become distorted or ugly but it doesn’t disappear.

Right?

Lisa smiles again, but it’s sad, and she looks at Dean again as she says, “There are certain people in your life that I don’t stand a chance against. You keep telling me I don’t have to be jealous, but as long as those certain people are around, I absolutely do.”

Dean doesn’t even have to think about it. “You mean Cas,” he says. “Lisa, Cas is on a whole different plane from you-”

“Exactly,” she cuts him off. “I am completely aware of that. I just think that maybe you don’t realize which different planes he and I are on.”

She had said something similar not too long ago, that there were things that Dean maybe didn’t know about himself. And there’s something lurking in the back of Dean’s brain, so terrifying in its brightness that Dean can’t even bring himself to think the words. Because they’re not true. That’s not the way this is supposed to work.

None of this is going the way Dean thought it would when he was little. Hell, it’s not going the way he thought it would back in March, when he finally worked up the courage to ask Lisa out.

“Cas is going back to school soon,” Dean tries, and his voice sounds hoarse. “He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Lisa smirks, and it actually reaches her eyes this time, like she thinks there’s something funny about Dean flailing all alone in the ocean of his confusion. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if he’s here or not. My point isn’t that Cas exists, it’s that I’m no good for you.”

Dean can’t even process that sentence.

“I guess I realized that because of Cas,” Lisa continues, unaware of Dean’s dumbfounded expression.

Again, it’s like she means to throw him a life-jacket, but is just pouring more water on him. Dean’s head is spinning from this conversation, and with the headache blooming between his eyes, he’s starting to think he just wants Lisa to say the final, awful words and go, let him sleep for a few days before he tries to puzzle this together.

But Lisa doesn’t notice, and keeps plowing forward. “Last night, I thought it would make you happy if I partied with you. So that’s what I did. But you know what Cas did?”

Snitched to Dean’s mom and maybe called the cops?

“The right thing,” Lisa says. “I wish I had the sense to do what he did.”

Dean puts his head in his hands and rubs his temples.

“You’re lucky to have someone who loves you the way Cas does.” Lisa reaches over, gently taking one of Dean’s hands in both of her own. He looks up at her, blearily, searching her face for some kind of clue, anything to help him put all this together, or help him keep away from those brilliant, terrifying, beautiful words in his head.

But all he gets is a beatific smile, so like Cas’s that Dean almost feels angry.

“I’m too selfish for you,” Lisa says, still clutching Dean’s hand. “You need someone who can be selfless, who can ignore what you want and give you what you need. And that’s not me.”

“Who is it, then?” Dean snaps. He doesn’t pull his hand away, and Lisa’s smile falls. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just rubs her thumb over Dean’s knuckles.

“I love you, Dean,” she says after a long moment, “but we need to break up.”

Finally.

Dean draws his hand back and nods. “Okay,” he croaks. “As you wish.”

Lisa sits awkwardly for a second, before retreating to the kitchen, where she asks Mary for a ride home. Breakfast must be ready, because Mary immediately, almost enthusiastically, says yes, and Dean realizes that she must have heard everything. He groans softly and falls onto his back, a hand hanging over his eyes, as Lisa finds her shoes and Mary grabs her keys.

“I’ll see you at school next week, Dean,” Lisa whispers as Mary opens the door.

Dean groans and rolls onto his side. Mary whispers something he can’t hear, then there’s the sound of the door clicking shut. Dean closes his eyes, determined to go back to that black, empty sleep and maybe stay forever, but he can hear voices outside, and then the door opens again.

“What did you forget?” Dean asks.

“Nothing.” Dean’s eyes fly open as he sits up, ignoring the spike of pain in his forehead.

“Cas?”

“Hello, Dean.” And Cas is smiling, but it’s shy and soft, not trying to hide anything.

Suddenly, the spike in Dean’s forehead explodes. Heat slides down his cheeks, into his neck and shoulders and lungs. All he can think about, replaying the conversation with Lisa over and over in his head until it twists and disintegrates, yelling over and over again, _This is all Cas’s fault._

Now, there's nothing protecting Sam and Jo and Charlie from sewer rats like Alastair, and it's _all Cas's fault_.

 

Now, Lisa has officially broken up with Dean, and all he can recall from the conversation is her comparing herself to Cas, her being jealous of Cas, her denigrating herself because of Cas, so basically, Dean losing the girl of his dreams is _all Cas's fault_.

 

And the cherry on the shit cake is that Cas has the audacity to stand there looking like some kind of teen angel, with his dark, messy hair and his bright, blue eyes, and his shapely nose and his full lips and his broad, graceful shoulders, and he's still taller than Dean and his legs and hips look fucking _amazing_ in those jeans, God, no wonder Dean keeps having those sexy dreams. Cas is fucking gorgeous and it's driving Dean crazy, and that is _all Cas's fault_.

 

There's another explosion, in Dean's chest this time, and he barks out, "What the hell do you want?" which effectively wipes the smile right off of Cas's face.

 

"I wanted to see how you were doing," Cas says, fidgeting with his hands. "You were pretty out of it last night. I was worried."

 

"You fucking crossed the line last night," Dean spits, standing up. It's too fast, and his head hurts, but he can't show any weakness now. He's had enough confusion for one day - he can't let Cas get under his skin again, even though there's already pain in those blue eyes. "I can't believe you'd fucking tattle to my mom like that, Cas!"

 

"I didn't-" Cas starts, but he stops himself, dropping his hands to his side. "Okay, I did, but it was for your own good!"

 

"My _mom_ showing up at a party where I was drunk as fuck, where all my friends were, that's for my own good?!"

 

"None of your friends were there, Dean!" Cas yells, leaning into the couch, and that's when Dean realizes he's doing the same, that they're yelling in each other's faces. "Your friends, your _real_ friends, the people who _care_ about you were worried sick!"

 

"None of you don't have to worry about me!"

 

"Yes we do! Goddammit, Dean." Cas runs both hands through his hair, and he looks like a wild animal, beautiful and furious. "You're a mess! You're a fucking mess and we want to help you because we love you, is that a crime?"

 

"Maybe I don't want your help," Dean hisses, shoving Cas back, knocking him off balance. "Maybe I'm fucked up and there is no fixing me."

 

"That's not true," and Cas sounds like this is the most hurtful thing Dean has ever said, like hearing Dean's clarity on his own worthlessness is worse than if Dean had just punched him. “Dean, please don’t talk like that.”

But Dean doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear that he can be saved, that he’s worth something. He doesn’t want to be told that he’s loved and needed. He wants everyone to leave him alone, until he’s swallowed up by the black hole in his chest, so that he never has to deal with any of this again.

“You ruined everything,” Dean says. Cas furrows his brow and opens his mouth, but Dean plows on before he can speak. “There’s nothing keeping Alastair from going after Sam anymore, your snitching pretty much broke the deal-”

“We had this conversation, Dean! And besides, you don’t have to worry about Alastair anymore, he-”

“Shut the fuck up, Cas!” Dean snaps. Cas blinks in surprise, his jaw going slack. “I’m not finished!”

Cas stares at Dean for a moment, then leans back over the couch, into Dean’s space. His eyes are entrancing, a lightning storm with his voice like distant thunder when he says, “Fine. What else are you blaming on me?”

“Lisa broke up with me. Because of you.” Dean huffs, shaking his head. “She actually admitted that. So I’m not blaming that on you just to be a dick. I’m blaming you, because it’s your fucking fault.”

Cas stares at Dean, eyes wide. “What?”

“Y’know what, Cas?” Dean takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m done.”

“ _What_?”

“You’ve fucking ruined my life as it is, so I’m just gonna stop you before you make it worse.”

“Ruined your _life_ -?”

“Shut up!” Dean drops his arms, his hands clenching into fists, and that’s when Cas finally takes a step back, nervousness ekeing in amongst the hurt and surprise in his eyes. “I never understood why you bothered with me in the first place, and I wish you never had! I’m never going to be some great artist, I’m never going to be better than what I am right now, I’m never going to college, and now that Lisa’s given up on me, I’m never going to be loved!”

And Dean hates that burning sensation in his eyes and sinuses, the blurriness in his vision, but he doesn’t hate that anywhere near as much as he hates Cas when Cas softly says, “That’s not true.”

“Shut up,” Dean says again, weaker this time. “Shut up and get out of here. I wish I’d never met you, Cas.” Dean falls back on the couch, both hands over his eyes as he whispers, “You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

His words hang in the air for a long time. There’s no movement. Dean stays on the couch, safe in the dark, until he hears Cas take a little breath, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Then the sound of a car starting outside.

Then, silence.

Then, Dean lets himself fall back into the emptiness.

\-----

Later, Dean is shaken awake by Mary, who smiles slightly and offers him a plate of pancakes.

“I had to nuke them,” she says, “but they’re still good.”

Dean stares at the plate, assaulted by the smell until his stomach rolls, and he gently pushes it away. “Not hungry,” he says softly.

Mary studies him for a moment, humming softly. “Is this because of the hangover, or because of what happened this morning?”

It’s because Dean’s alone. It’s because Jo hates him and he pushed Charlie away and Lisa dumped him and he dumped Cas. Because Dean can’t even protect them from afar anymore. Because there’s something dark and deep inside him, and sometimes it aches, but mostly he just wants to retreat into it as an escape, as a way to hide from everything that’s gone wrong.

“Just not hungry,” he says.

Mary hums again, folding her hands in her lap. “I see. Then I guess I’m just going to have to talk at you.”

Dean shrugs. Might as well get the lecture over with.

“Dean, you’ve had a lot of people worried about you lately.” Mary reaches over, resting her hand on Dean’s shoulder. The point of contact is grounding, keeping Dean from drifting away, so he turns to look at her. “Did you know that Jo dropped by and asked for you? And Charlie?”

Dean shakes his head slowly. Why would Jo ask for him? Doesn’t she hate him for tricking her?

“Sam’s been worrying about you too,” Mary continues. “And me, of course. So thank God for Cas, really.” She laughs softly. “He’s the only one who actually did anything.”

Tattled. Called the cops. Sure, Cas did something, all right. Dean snorts. Mary frowns.

“Cas saved your life last night,” she says slowly. “I hope you at least thanked him for it.”

Dean stays silent. Mary sighs.

“I know you’re upset,” she says, “about what happened this morning. It’s always hard to hear things like that. But people come and go, Dean. Good people, and bad people, they’ll flow in and out of your life. It’s up to you to decide who to let go of, and who to chase after.” She ruffles Dean’s hair, smiling slightly when he turns to look at her. “As a bit of advice? Chase after the ones that make you into a better person. Who challenge you, but make you happy at the same time.”

Dean furrows his brow, turning the morning over in his head again. What Lisa had said, about realizing she wasn’t any good for Dean because of Cas’s actions. And Mary said…

“Cas saved my life?” Dean says.

Mary smiles slightly. “I never knew where to find you when you snuck out, if I was ever even home. So when Cas showed up at the Roadhouse last night and told me what was going on, Ellen let me go find you. If we’d been even a few seconds later, Sheriff Mills would’ve had you in the drunk tank. And then what, Dean? And that smarmy asshole,” Mary huffs, shaking her head. “He just would’ve dragged you down with him. He still might! But at least you weren’t caught at the scene. You still have a chance of getting out of this one.”

Dean frowns. “ _Cas_ is the one who called the cops.”

“Not that I know of,” Mary says. “Dean, you were pretty out of it last night. That party was incredibly loud, and almost everyone there was underage and drunk off their ass. There are lots of people in town that might have made that call.”

Oh. Shit.

“There’s something else you should know, Dean,” Mary continues, apparently unaware that this information has already turned Dean’s head upside-down. “That asshole, Alastair? He was arrested and charged last night. He’s been up to a lot more than you know about, and Jody said he’s facing at least five years in prison.” She smiles, running a gentle hand through Dean’s hair. “So you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Dean stares at his mother, as the gravity of what he’s done starts to hit him. He’s done it again - treated Cas like a villain when all Cas was trying to do was help him. Blamed Cas for things that weren’t really his fault; he didn’t really call the cops, and he didn’t force Lisa to break up with Dean. In fact, not too long ago, he was trying to help them patch up.

“Oh God,” Dean mutters. “I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Mary pets his head again and smiles. “It’s not too late to fix it.”

Dean wants to believe her. He really does. But the way he behaved this summer, he can’t imagine anyone forgiving him. Least of all Cas. “Mom, I don’t-”

“If you need to chase after someone, you go ahead and do it.” Mary takes the plate of pancakes and stands up, winking. “You won’t be officially grounded until you get back.”

\-----

_I’ve made a huge mistake._

The words keep ringing in Dean’s head. As he drives up to the resort, _I’ve made a huge mistake_. As he rushes into the lobby and finds that the visitor code hasn’t changed yet, _I’ve made a huge mistake_. As he rides up the elevator, bouncing anxiously from one foot to another, _I’ve made a huge mistake_.

And when he walks down the hallway to Cas’s suite, banging on the door. “Cas!” he yells, and his voice cracks, “I’ve made a huge mistake!”

He keeps pounding on the door, yelling at Cas to open up, that he wants to apologize, please hear him out. He doesn’t give up, even when nobody answers. Somewhere down the hall, a woman yells at him to shut up, but Dean ignores her, even when she threatens to call security. He just has to talk to Cas. Just one more chance to explain himself, just long enough to-

The door opens.

But it’s not Cas.

Gabe sticks his head out, and he smirks at Dean. “Cas isn’t interested in talking right now, bucko,” he says. “You’re better off moseying on home.”

“I messed up this morning,” Dean starts, and Gabe laughs derisively.

“You ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie, Dean-o,” Gabe says. “Get out of here.”

“No. I want to talk to Cas.”

“Yeah, well, Cas made it very clear he doesn’t want to talk to you.” Gabe narrows his eyes, lifting his chin to look Dean in the eye. “And even if he decided he wanted to, I’d stop him from doing so. Because that’s what older brothers are supposed to do: protect their younger siblings from assholes like you.”

Dean blinks. “What?”

“You really hurt him this time, Dean. He’s been weird all summer, and I don’t know what the hell you did, but I think you finally broke it. No. He’s not going to speak to you.” Gabe shuts the door in Dean’s face and yells through it, “End of story.”

Dean stares at the door, dumbfounded, then knocks on it again. Softer this time. He leans up against the wood and says, “Cas, please, just come talk to me. I’m really sorry for everything I said, I didn’t mean it, just please-”

The door opens again, jostling Dean, but this time it’s Anna who slips through the door. Her jaw is tight and her blue eyes are fierce, and she’s far from the little first-year Ginny Weasley he saw at the concert. No, this is closer to fifth-year Ginny, ready to cast a bat-bogey hex for the ages, right in Dean’s face.

“Cas says that if you wish you’d never met him, he’s happy to comply with that as best he can.” Her voice is dripping with disgust, and it’s in the way her nose wrinkles too. As if Dean is old gum on the bottom of her shoes. “He would, of course, do anything for you.”

She says it as if she knows something that Dean should know too, something simple and obvious. And maybe Dean does know, deep down, in the places he doesn’t like to think about. Where that white, terrifying light resides. And thinking about that, Dean starts to ache inside. That emptiness he wanted to escape to this morning, it threatens to break open inside his chest, but now, for some reason, he doesn’t want to go.

He wants to see Cas one more time, before summer break ends. He wants to apologize and start making things right. To treat Cas a little better and make him smile again.

“Anna, I didn’t mean any of the shit I said to him this morning.”

“Don’t care,” Anna snaps. “You really fucked up this time, Dean. I don’t know what the hell you said to him, but you fucked him up bad.” She wraps her arms around herself, staring at the ground. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“Please let me talk to him,” Dean croaks, rubbing his hands over his face. “Please, Anna, just give me five minutes to explain.”

“No,” says Anna, shaking her head. “You’ve done enough.”

And she slips back inside, clicking the lock shut behind her.

Dean stares at the door again. Cas is on the other side somewhere, in pain because Dean was an idiot, and nobody is letting Dean in to try and fix it.

Maybe he can’t. Maybe he really did take things too far this time. Cas is his best friend, the one person he’s really and truly been able to trust recently, and Dean practically spat in his face. One of the best things in Dean’s life, and he pushed him away.

Dean raises his hand, ready to knock one more time. He can’t hear anything on the other side of the door, but Anna’s words start ringing in his ears: You’ve done enough.

Dean lowers his hand and takes a step back.

He made a huge mistake. But he’s done enough.

Every step away from that door feels like it’s tearing another piece of Dean away, replacing him with solid, roaring emptiness. He aches all around his edges, particularly at his temples, but everything inside is a void.

By the time Dean reaches his truck, there are tears running down his face. He wipes them away, and when they return, he pretends they’re not there.

Leaving his relationship with Cas in tatters hurts, it hurts so much worse than hearing Lisa tell him they won’t work out. But this is for the better. That’s what Dean tells himself, chants it over and over again in his head. He hurt Cas. Like the scum he is, Dean hurt his best friend for no reason, and all this boils down to is that he never deserved Cas in the first place. Never. And it just figures that of course, at some point, Cas would hit his limit and cut Dean off. Anyone would.

Dean doesn’t blame Cas in the slightest.

Turning up a side street takes Dean past Bobby’s garage, and he slams on the brakes when he sees that big white wall. The empty building that never had any use, that large expanse of blank space that calls to Dean, asking to be turned into something beautiful.

Staring into white brilliance, Dean sees Cas’s eyes. Dangerous and sad, electric blue like a fallen angel, like a thunderstorm over the ocean.

He hits the gas, hurrying home, where he buries himself in his room with his sketchbook, unable to stop drawing. The same picture with minor changes, sketch after sketch after sketch until Dean is satisfied. That evening, before dinner, Dean calls Bobby with an important question.

The next day, Dean takes the gift card Sam gave him to Wal-Mart and loads up on as many colors of paint as he can.

For the next several weeks, long after Cas has gone back to school and a little past when Lisa abruptly moves to Portland, Dean goes to that blank wall after school or after work. And, weighted down with guilt and self-loathing and the image of Cas’s eyes burned into his mind, Dean paints.

And paints.

And paints.

 

“ _And I am done with my graceless heart_  
 _So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart_  
 _‘Cause I like to keep my issues drawn_  
 _It’s always darkest before the dawn_ ”

**Shake It Out** , Florence and the Machine

  
END Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even faster this time! you guys should be proud of me! (if you're not angry about this ending, of course)
> 
> don't worry though. i'm already outlining part three, and this time i'm sure it will be shorter, so hopefully around the end of september/early october, some of your questions will be answered! i'm also working on some interludes (charlie's POV of the beginning of the last chapter, and what exactly happened when cas went to visit lisa)! so if you want to know when anything else from this verse goes up, please bookmark the series page so you can get an e-mail as soon as it's ready! 
> 
> also, i wrote the last few scenes on an airplane and am posting this from an airport, so if you spot any errors let me know! i did some editing, but it was rushed and in little bursts so i'm pretty sure i missed some things.
> 
> please let me know what you thought about this chapter (or the entirety of part 2) in a comment or by sending me a message [on tumblr](http://vintagenoise.co.vu)! also, if you have any questions or concerns, or if you just want to know how the writing process is coming, tumblr is the place to check! 
> 
> thanks for sticking with me, guys! it'll be better from here on out! 
> 
> (... for a while, at least :P)


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